Between the Shadows
by Dawn N
Summary: Follows Devil's Trap. The Winchester family is faced with something it never saw coming not even in their worst fears, especially Dean's. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Between the Shadows

Disclaimer: The characters of Supernatural were created by Eric Kripke. The show is owned by the CW network. No profit is being made.

**NOTE TO READERS: **I plan on making this a chapter story. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I'll see how it goes.

Yet, another take on the events following "Devil's Trap." This will be AU because this story will not follow the likely outcome of the season opener.

And, to everyone waiting for my final installment to my "Uninvited" SN story series, I promise I am writing it currently, and as soon as it is finished I will post it. Thanks for your patience! I just had this story knocking around and had to start writing, sorry.

Thanks to every reader that has reviewed my other stories. Read and Review!

**Between the Shadows**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. So you must not be frightened, if a sadness rises up before you larger than any you have ever seen; if a restiveness, like light and cloud-shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand; it will not let you fall…" _Poem excerpt by Ranier Maria Rilke, _Letters To A Young Poet_

It had been a few hours since Dean had opened his eyes and his nurse had explained to him about the accident with the semi-truck. He knew his Dad was a couple rooms down from him, and was expected to make a full recovery. He had a severe concussion, but had regained consciousness in the ER and had even had the strength to explain the gunshot wound to the questioning staff. He had broken four ribs, and dislocated his shoulder. He was in and out of consciousness, but Dean had been assured that his father was doing well. The doctors couldn't believe his father's luck at not dying in the crash. They had been in the hospital a full 30 hours now give or take, and Dean had only seen his brother once, and even then it hadn't been in person. He had seen Sam talking to his nurse outside his room, but he never came in. He stared at the ceiling of his ICU room. His chest hurt, and he had been told he had undergone surgery to repair a punctured lung and a nicked artery. He had also received two blood transfusions, and had a mild concussion.

A noise at the door pulled him from counting ceiling tiles. "Hey," Sam stood hunched in the doorway.

"Finally decided to crawl out from whatever rock you've been hiding under, huh?" Dean's tone sounded harsh. Sam walked in a stood a couple feet from Dean's bed.

"You look better than you did in the ER," Sam commented. He decided not to address Dean's irritated comment. Dean looked at Sam and saw the stitches peeking out from under his hairline and ran down to part of his right temple.

"You okay?" He couldn't help himself he had to ask.

"He should be in a hospital bed like you," Dean's nurse commented as she entered the room to check his fluid levels and vitals, and felt compelled to comment on the younger man's health.

"I'm fine," Sam groused. Dean looked at Sam his jaw line was tight and his lips were thinned out in what Dean surmised was either exhaustion or pain, maybe both.

"What's she talking about?" Sam didn't comment, so Dean turned to the source. "What do you mean he should be in a bed?"

"He was diagnosed with a severe concussion and you shouldn't fool around with those."

"I had an MRI, they didn't find anything wrong."

"That's true, but your concussion should be monitored properly in the event you have a complication."

"I'm fine, and I don't remember asking your opinion." Sam's head was killing him, and this headache felt like it was going to push his brain from his skull. He idly wondered if it would begin to ooze out his ears from the pressure.

"Well, whatever," she commented. "Your brother needs his rest and since you signed yourself out AMA you'll have to leave ICU when visiting hours are over and that's in five minutes."

"Whatever," Sam grumbled.

"Have you seen Dad?" Sam shook his head. "What? Why not?"

"He doesn't want to see me," Sam commented sadly. "He blames me for not …" Sam didn't finish his sentence. They were in public and there would be no demon talk, but Dean knew what he wasn't saying.

"That's nuts Sam." Dean was angry.

"He was right though," Sam replied "It could have been over, if I had done what he asked."

"Kill him, Sam," Dean hissed under his breath. "You think you should have? He's our father."

"I couldn't do it anyway," Sam said quietly. Dean was tired and in pain, so his temper was getting the better of him.

"Where the hell have you been anyway? I know you haven't been sitting with Dad, and I saw you a while ago out in the hallway. What is it? Dad and me crimp your lifestyle or something? I know," he complained. "We aren't a part of that normal life, right?"

"Dean… you know that isn't true. You said I was selfish back in Jefferson City only cared about revenge. It's not true you know, I sided with you in that cabin, and I put you and Dad first above killing the demon."

"What? You want a cookie? It's one damn moment out of a lifetime Sam," Dean hissed. "Just get the hell out, I don't need you!"

"Dean," Sam tried to placate his older brother. "What that demon said was a pile of bullshit, you know that right? I'm not Dad's favorite. And, we do need you," he paused. "I need you. You're my brother." Dean leveled his brother with a hard glare.

"I said get the hell out of here. I don't want to see you right now. Just go!" Sam dropped his eyes from Dean's glare, and stepped back to leave.

"Okay, I'll be back later," his voice defeated. He turned and made it to the threshold of the door and stopped. He reached his hand out to steady himself. His head was suddenly exploding in a red hot pain, and he could feel the room start to shift.

"Don't bother," Dean barked. "What you need to be thrown out?" He sat watching Sam's back as he stopped in the doorway. Sam slowly rotated to his side, and Dean watched his brother hold on to the door and slowly slide down the door threshold to a seated position. "Sammy?" His voice held no anger only concern. Sam shifted his eyes toward his brother. And, Dean saw pain and fear, raw fear. All of his anger evaporated like a morning fog in the hot afternoon sun. "Hey! Help! I need some help!" He was hitting his call button. He was wired to so many IV's and machines. And, his sutures prevented him from getting up. "Sammy!" He tried to get up, but he literally couldn't, and it filled him with an unequaled rage.

"Dean," Sam looked at his brother his voice a pained plea. His eyes rolled back into his head, and just as he began to pitch sideways Dean's nurse grabbed him before his head connected with the floor.

Staff poured into the room from the ICU department. They laid Sam out on the floor while Sue, Dean's nurse began assessing Sam's vitals just as an ICU doctor pushed his way in to examine Sam. "His pulse is weak," Sue commented. "He was an AMA from the ER a few hours ago. Severe concussion." Sue pointed out. The doctor proceeded to pull out a pen light to examine Sam's pupils. "Jesus," the doctor said under his breath. "Kids these days think they're immortal or something. Get his file from the ER, and have it waiting in the MRI for me.

"What's happening?" Dean shouted.

"You need to stay calm Dean," Sue urged from her place beside Sam. "You need to keep your blood pressure down."

"Screw my blood pressure!" He yelled. "What's wrong with him?"

The doctor opened Sam's first eye, "sluggish response on the right," he commented. "Get a back board in here now. We need to get him to a trauma room." He opened Sam's other eye. "Dammit, his left pupil is blown. Call MRI we have a stat case coming down. Get a damn pulse ox on this kid. He's looking hypoxic. Bag him." He put a stethoscope on Sam's now exposed chest as his t-shirt had been cut off of him. "Diminished respiratory effort." Dean watched a technician place a mask over his brother's face and begin squeezing a bag. There was a flurry of activity as a heart monitor was attached to Sam, and was rolled onto to his side and a board placed under him. Then he watched him picked up and placed on a gurney. The doctor peeled a swab out of a sterile wrapper, and opened Sam's mouth. "No gag reflex. We got to intubate this kid before he gets to MRI."

Dean watched in horror as he saw a metal device placed into his brothers mouth as his head was arched back and he saw the doctor thread a tube down his little brothers throat and attach it to a bag that another nurse began squeezing to help Sam get oxygen.

"Somebody tell me what's happening!" Dean yelled. He was being ignored.

"Sonofabitch," the doctor yelled. "Push a bicarb bolus. He's got a run of PVC's. This kid is going to code on us."

"Sammy!" Dean's voice could not mask the sheer desperation he was feeling. _God, why did I say those things to him? I didn't mean a word of it Sammy, not one damn word. Come on, little brother jokes over, you win, okay?_ Dean's internal conversation ricocheted in his skull.

"Push an amp of epi. Okay, the bolus brought him into a workable rhythm. We got to get him to MRI, now! Clear the hallway and the elevator. Tell MRI to have the scan ready for a red line." And, before Dean could say one more word he watched them literally run with the gurney Sam was on and head for the elevator.

"Sam!" He called out to the all ready out of sight gurney.

**To Be Continued in Chapter Two.**

**Well, do you like it? Hate it? Let me know. Reviews would be greatly appreciated. It's a fanfic writer's only payment! Thank you.**


	2. To Cast All Else Aside

Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for all of the reviews! They have been wonderful. Keep them coming, as it lets me know how I'm doing.

Also, since I was asked once what "AMA" from chapter one stands for in hospital jargon I thought I'd define it here for everyone: It's short for 'against medical advice', so basically if they make you sign an AMA paper they have told you that they advise you stay under their care until they release you, but if you decline they make you sign a paper, so that you can't sue them should you suffer a complication or die if you refuse further treatment.

Again, this story will be AU since there will be no way the show goes this route. Thanks again for all of the reviews and comments!

**Chapter Two: **

**To Cast All Else Aside**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower; we will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind; in primal sympathy which having been must ever be; in soothing thoughts that spring out of human suffering…"_ poem excerpt by William Wordsworth

Dean had been replaying his last moments with his brother over and over in his head. He had been angry that Sam hadn't come in earlier when he been outside his room, and he was more angry at the entire situation with the demon and the cabin, and that he had actually believed some of what that evil bastard had said to him. He wasn't angry with Sammy. _God, how could I have said those things to him? Dammit._ He berated himself silently in his head. He had stopped trying to get someone in his room to answer his questions. It seemed like hours since they had wheeled Sam away, but looking at the clock in his room it had only been ten minutes.

"Dean?" Sue, his nurse was at the door.

"What's wrong with my brother?"

"I don't know," she offered. I saw him down to the MRI lab, and just got back. He was still in the scan when I came back.

"Look, I know you know something," his tone serious. "I want some information," he barked.

"Dean, the chief of neurology is with him in the MRI right now, he's the best in this hospital. If your brother is in his hands then he's all ready off to a good start."

"Chief of neurology? God, what's wrong with his brain?" Dean felt the bile creep up his throat.

"There should be some information soon Dean, and as soon as I know something I'll tell you," she comforted. "But, you need to stay calm," she urged.

"Screw being calm! If he was so hurt why the hell didn't you people force him to stay in a bed?"

"I told you that your brother signed an AMA paper. That means…"

"I know what the hell it means, 'against medical advice' but maybe you people should have said, hey, you might drop over any minute."

"He was told that with the severity of his concussion they wanted to admit him for twenty-four hours, but he declined. He was given an MRI and it came back clean."

"Really?" Dean's sarcasm was as thick as molasses. "So, why did he collapse, huh?"

"Sometimes complications don't present themselves right away," Sue answered. "And, had he been admitted we might have been able to treat him in a more controlled manner than the way we had to when he passed out here in your room."

"Don't you dare stick this on my brother," Dean warned. Sue didn't reply. "My dad, does he know?"

"Not yet," Sue answered. "He's still in and out of it from his head injury. He may not be able to be told for another day or two. They'll have to gauge it on his level of alertness." Dean glanced at the clock with irritation.

"They have to know something by now."

"I'll call down to the lab and see if I can get an update for you."

"Thanks," Dean's voice was quiet.

**Meanwhile, the MRI Lab**

"Damn look at the size of that hematoma. The blood needs evacuated." Dr. Kendrick, chief of Neurology commented. "There," he pointed to an area of Sam's scan. "It's a shift. Man, if this kid didn't have bad luck he wouldn't have any luck at all." The shift in brain position indicated to the doctor that there was increased pressure inside Sam's brain. "Okay, get him out of there I've seen what I have to. He needs a red flag to the OR. Has the family been told?"

"No, but they are all patients here in the hospital. They were all in the same accident," Dr. Greg Masters, Dr. Kendrick's intern answered.

"Man, is this family cursed or something." Dr. Kendrick commented. "Are they stable to be told?"

"I know the older brother is awake, but their father is in and out."

"Talk to the brother. Be straight with him Greg, you know what we're looking at." The young intern nodded solemnly. "Start the kid on a mannitol drip," Dr. Kendrick's ordered to another staff member as they prepared Sam for transport to the OR. The lab phone rang and the technician picked up.

"It's the ICU nurse for his brother. He wants an update."

"Tell her Dr. Masters will be up in a few minutes to talk to him."

Dean glanced over to his door as Sue walked in. He looked at her with expectant eyes. "Well, how's Sam?"

"Dr. Masters is coming to speak to you."

"Is that the Chief?"

"No, his intern, but he's an excellent doctor and is training under Dr. Kendrick the Chief I told you about. He'll be here shortly."

A few minutes later a young late twenties looking doctor walked in. Dean idly thought they were probably the same age give or take a year or two. "How's my brother?" Dean cut right to the point.

"Mr…" he hesitated realizing he didn't know the patients name.

"Dean, tell me about Sam."

"He's headed into surgery. They are prepping him right now."

"Surgery! You're not talkin' brain surgery," Dean felt nauseous.

"Sir, your brother is in extremely critical condition. He developed an extremely large hematoma on his brain,' he paused. "I mean it's like a bruise of sorts that has left a large amount of blood sitting on his brain. And, unfortunately it appears that the intracranial pressure in your brother's head that has most likely been increasing steadily over the last few hours since his initial head injury, and the development of the hematoma has caused a dangerously high pressure in his head."

"What does that mean?" Dean had a death grip on the bed sheet beneath him. "Is my brother going to …" Dean's throat threatened to close. "Could he die?"

"He's very unstable at the moment and with all surgeries there are risks."

"That's not what I asked you," Dean was blunt. "Could my brother die?"

"Yes," Dr. Masters was matter of fact. "There is a strong chance that he may not make it off the table." Dean closed his eyes for a brief moment trying to reign in his emotions that were pushing forward. He was scared, and guilt ridden. He needed for Sam to live. He couldn't die.

"If he survives surgery," Dean's voice shook at saying _if_. "He'll be okay, right?" The look on the doctor's face filled Dean with a gripping cold. He actually shivered.

"The brain injury your brother has suffered according to the MRI scans is a catastrophic injury. The swelling has caused a shift in his brain, meaning it has actually pushed his brain slightly over in his skull pushing it against the inside of his skull. The blood gathered from the hematoma has further compromised your brother's brain." Dean's mind had been reeling at the words _catastrophic injury _being used in reference to his Sam.

"What are you saying?" Dean's voice was harsh. The doctor took a deep breath; he always hated this part of the job.

"Should your brother survive surgery there is every indication based on current scans and test results that he will suffer from severe brain damage." Dean felt the sickness rise in his throat and the doctor must have noticed as well, he stepped up and handed Dean a small basin just in time for him to vomit into. There wasn't anything on his stomach which made the effort of being sick even more painful. Silently he thought he deserved this pain. "Better?" The doctor moved the basin away and offered Dean a small cup of water. Dean offered a shaky nod.

"But, you don't know for sure, right. I mean he could be fine," Dean rushed ahead while he trusted his stomach not to rebel once again. He had to be strong for Sammy.

"The brain is a complex thing and I have seen some surprising results in the past," but the doctor was hesitate to provide any false hope. "But, your brother's case," he hesitated. "I don't want to give you false hope. It is a devastating injury. He was all ready in a deep coma before he went into the MRI. He is unresponsive, and isn't breathing on his own."

"What kind of damage are you talking about?" Dean was back to business now. He hated people telling him about his brother, and what to expect from him when these people didn't know his little brother. They didn't know that Sam was brilliant, that he was special. He had so much to offer, and he wasn't going to let them define or limit him.

"His scans showed brain activity, but it was of a diffused nature which is indicative of damage. Based on what the scans provided downstairs the damage will most likely leave him unable to care for himself, possibly not communicate beyond infantile responses. But, we can't say for any certainty the extent of damage until he wakes up."

"So, he could be fine." Dean knew he was grasping at straws, but he wasn't giving up on Sammy.

"It's unlikely, Sir. If your brother survives the surgery and comes out of the coma there is little chance that he will emerge from this brain injury without damage." Dean felt like a deflated balloon. He decided in that moment that he would take what he wanted from the medical mumbo-jumbo he was hearing and forget the rest. No one was making him give up on his little brother. Part of him was happy that their dad was still out of it and had no clue what was happening.

"What about the surgery?" Dean questioned. "Are they shaving his head and cutting into his head?"

"No, Dr. Kendrick is working on a new technique that he thinks will be safer for your brother. He's certain that an open skull procedure right now would be a death sentence for your brother's all ready critical condition. He his going in through your brother's left temple with a small drill into the skull bone where the blood has collected, and plans to drain it with a small catheter that can be entered into the brain cavity to drain the blood. And, ideally this should release some of the additional pressure. However, they have started him on some IV medications that are designed to help reduce and/or control brain swelling. But, should the pressure continue to build it may become necessary to open a piece of your brother's skull to allow the brain a place to expand to in order to prevent brain death."

"How long until I hear something?"

"The surgery is delicate. It may be a while." Dean nodded, although he would have been happier with some kind of ballpark figure. "I'll be going into the OR when I finish speaking to you and I'm sure either myself or Dr. Kendrick will be back to talk to you." Dean nodded. "Do you have any other questions?"

"No."

"Well, if you do don't hesitate to ask. I'm a brother, too. I know you must be climbing the walls. But, you need to concentrate on yourself too. You can't afford any set back for your own health." Dean nodded silently. The doctor excused himself.

**Meanwhile, In the Operating Room**

"Dr. Kendrick his cardiac status is showing distress." An OR tech called out from the telemetry station.

"Push an amp of epi." He ordered the tech manning the IV administrations. "There's just so much damn blood." He commented to another colleague that joined him for the procedure. "Dammit," he grumbled. "This kid's brain is a mess."

An alarm sounded with a steady wail. "He's arrested." The anesthesiologist called out.

"Start compressions," Dr. Kendrick barked. "I've almost got the blood drained. While Kendrick continued to work his colleague took over the resuscitation efforts with the rest of the OR staff.

"Start the clock," Dr. Jaffey barked. A nurse leaned back and started the clock that would keep track of how long Sam was in arrest while they tried to resuscitate him. "Push another epi," Dr. Jaffey called out as he continued to administer compressions while the anesthesiologist handled respirations. "What's his rhythm?"

"Flatline." Dr. Jaffey shook his head.

"Come on kid give us something to work with." He continued to administer compressions. "Down time?" He called out.

"Six minutes."

"Push an amp of lidocaine." He ordered. He pushed vigorously against Sam's chest with his compressions trying to circulate the drugs in an effort to stimulate his young heart into beating. "Holding compressions" he called out. "Rhythm?"

"Still flatline."

"Dammit, come on!" He continued compressions.

The machines continued to wail indicating Sam Winchester's silent heart.

**To Be Continued.**

**Please, Read and Review. It's the only way I know if you like it or hate it. Thanks! **


	3. When Angels Cry

Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thanks for the review! I couldn't believe the response from this story. I'm glad that it appears to be a hit.

Please, continue to review! It is positive reinforcement for more writing, plus let's me know how I'm doing and what you, the reader thinks. Thanks!

**When Angels Cry**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Wait, your tired arms must rest, let this moment pass, wait until the morning. Close your eyes and let me see who you used to be left without a warning … if ever was a heart that longed to fly, if ever was a soul that longed to bloom, if ever was an angel, it was you…"_ Lyric excerpt from singer Janis Ian, song _When Angels Cry_

"He's in V-Fib," a nurse called out.

"Charge the paddles to 360," Dr. Jaffey ordered. He placed the paddles against Sam's bare chest. "Clear!"

"No change."

"Charge to 450. Clear!"

"We got a rhythm." The anesthesiologist answered before the nurse could respond. Dr. Jaffey allowed himself to exhale a sigh of relief. "Stewart," he spoke to Dr. Kendrick. "You better get out of there soon. If this kid arrests again I don't think we'll get him back." He looked at Sam's heart rate and blood pressure readings shaking his head. "He's literally circling the drain, Stew." Dr. Kendrick gave him a curt nod.

"Almost done, Mark." He spoke to Dr. Jaffey. "Increase his mannitol drip", he ordered the IV tech. He closed the small opening in Sam's skull, and stitched the wound closed with a handful of small sutures, and covered the wound with a small gauze flap. He installed an intracranial monitor, so that the pressure could be monitored. And, if the pressure crisis improved then the monitor could be removed by removing a couple stitches and pulling the thin tube out. "That's it. How's his heart rate and pressure?"

"Well," Dr. Jaffey began. "At least he has a heart rate and pressure. That's something I guess. How long was he down?" he questioned a nurse. She glanced at the clock that they had stopped the moment they got his heart restarted.

"Twelve minutes," she answered. Dr. Jaffey shook his head with concern.

Sam was moved to recovery and was surrounded by machines and monitors. He was so pale and still under all of the equipment that he didn't even appear to be living, but the machines beeping and whooshing around him told a different story, Sam Winchester was alive.

Dean looked up as Dr. Kendrick walked into his room. "I'm Dr. Kendrick, Chief of Neurology. Dr. Masters was called to the ER, so I came to speak to you about your brother."

"How is he?"

"He made it through surgery. We almost lost him," the doctor began. Dean felt his stomach drop. "His heart stopped during the procedure and it took us a few minutes to get him back."

"But, he's okay, right? I mean the pressure in his head. The blood is off his brain." Dean was trying to remain calm. Now, was not the time to lose his cool. He had to maintain for Sammy's sake.

"He's in recovery. I was able to extract the blood and remove the large hematoma. However, the pressure inside his skull is still elevated, but has been reduced. I have him on some IV medications that I hope will control further swelling and help reduce it."

"What happens from here?"

"Once he leaves recovery he will be moved to this unit. And, they are preparing his ICU room right now to accommodate the equipment he'll need. Your brother isn't breathing on his own right now and will be on a ventilator. And, the coma is deep."

"But, when will he wake up?"

"He may not," the doctor answered simply. "But, until he does we won't know the extent of the brain damage he suffered. Until he wakes the level of damage can on be speculated on."

"So, he could be okay then?" Dean was suddenly hopeful.

"I'm sorry; perhaps I should have worded my response differently. I thought Dr. Masters told you about the probable damage."

"Yeah, but he could still wake up, okay?" Dean was in denial.

"If your brother wakes up," he began tentatively. "Even that won't be a quick process. He will have different levels of consciousness as he surfaces from the deeper coma. He may even open his eyes now and again, but he won't be focusing on anything, he won't really be seeing. The coma could last days, weeks, months even, or as I said he may never wake up."

Dean decided he was going to utilize his earlier plan to only listen to what he wants to hear and shut out the rest. "The swelling," he began. "You said you have him on some drugs to help, but if it gets worse that other doctor said you may have to go in again. What happens?"

"I'm hoping I won't have to. I really don't think your brother would survive the surgery. But, if the pressure were to increase to the point brain death is imminent I'll have open a portion of his skull to allow his brain to expand without crushing itself against the inside of his skull. Let's just cross the bridge if we come to it," the doctor suggested.

"Look, I gotta know about it. If Sam needs this…" The doctor held a hand up and Dean closed his mouth.

"If he needs this surgery and it comes to that there will be a tough decision to make."

"What decision? If the surgery will help him you'll do it." It seemed so simple to Dean if something was broken in his brother then by god someone was going to fix it if he couldn't.

"If he needs the surgery I can almost guarantee that he will likely die on the table based on his current status." The doctor saw the stricken look on the older sibling's face. "I know this isn't easy to hear, and I wish I didn't have to say it. I'm a surgeon and I'm supposed to be able to fix your brother, but sometimes the body has just had enough and sometimes the only answer is to do nothing."

"Nothing!" Dean hissed. "You're a damn quack," he huffed. "So, what you're saying is he has the surgery he'll die, but it comes to that I'm supposed to say do nothing if the pressure in his head goes up, and he'll die, too, right? The pressure will go up until his brain dies, and then I have to pull the plug on my little brother because he'll be brain dead. I mean that's what you're saying, right?" Dean's voice was harsh. "You're all fuckin' nuts in this place!"

"Sir, I understand…"

"You don't understand squat."

"It's not an easy decision to make," the doctor was used to family members yelling and making harsh statements. He could sympathize with their dilemma, he was human too after all, and had his own family. But, he wasn't in this young man's shoes and hoped he never would be. "At this point we're in a waiting game to see if his pressure rises. We have an intracranial pressure device monitoring his pressure. We'll keep an eye on it."

"When will you know if the drugs are working?" Dean took a breath and tried to reign in his temper.

"The next 48 hours should show a reduction or increase. By removing the hematoma we did relieve some of the pressure, so that is a good thing. I'm also monitoring his brain activity, as well."

"That other doctor said he had brain activity, so that's good, right?"

"Yes, but I'm sure he explained that your brother's activity is diffused in nature which is indicative of brain damage. Most likely severe to profound."

"Yeah, he said something like that," Dean didn't want to get into all of that again. _These stupid bastards couldn't find their asses with both hands, let alone tell him his brother's injury was hopeless. What did they know? They didn't know Sammy and that was for sure._ Dean thought to himself.

"Well," the doctor was taking the cue that Dean had heard all he cared to hear for right now. "I will maintain handling your brother's case, so I will give you daily updates either personally or through my intern Dr. Masters whom you've all ready met." Dean nodded.

"When is Sam going to be out of recovery?"

"Most likely another couple hours, and then he'll be a couple rooms past you. Well, I'll leave you now. If you have any questions or concerns I will leave contact numbers with your nurse and either myself or Dr. Masters will be available to answer them for you, okay?"

"Thank you for keeping my brother alive." The doctor smiled and nodded there was something about saying 'you're welcome' that just felt inappropriate in this particular moment.

**Two Hours and Forty Minutes Later in ICU**

Dean had started to squeeze his hands into fists on his blankets over and over to control his anxiety over not seeing Sam arrive in ICU within the two hours the doctor had predicted. And, then he heard the voices of staff filter into to his room and watched to see if he could catch a glimpse of his brother go by as they took him to his room. First he saw the two nurses guiding two IV poles each all filled with IV bags and tubing. Then he saw Sam, just a brief glance. He saw another nurse walking beside the gurney holding and squeezing a bag attached to a tube he could see was down his brother's throat. He heard the various monitors beeping. And, another couple staff members were pushing Sam. His chest tightened at the brief glance he was given. Sam was white as a sheet, and the dark circles under his eyes had a sickly pale brown hue to them and the contrast of dark against the paleness of his skin couldn't be missed.

He saw just a hint of the bandage covering the other side of his brother's head over his temple area. And, then he was gone again out of sight. Dean wanted so badly to be with him and he internally raged against his broken body that wasn't permitting him to be at his brother's side. That was going to change. He didn't care if he had to tear out his IV's and open sutures crawling to his brother's bedside he would see Sam.

"God, Sammy," Dean choked out loud as the gravity of what he was seeing sunk in and resonated with him. It became too real in that brief moment of his little brother passing by his room. He saw how close his brother is dancing toward the edge. He knew his little brother was too close to the darkness, and he had to be there to keep him from slipping into the shadows. The dark was no place for his brother, not his Sam. Sam was made of light and didn't belong in shadow and dark. _Please, God,_ Dean thought quietly to himself as he closed his eyes trying to center himself. _Look, I know I'm not the prayin' type, but Sammy didn't deserve this. Please, God, if you're listening … you don't have to do this for me, but do it for Sam. He's always had enough faith for the both of us. He still believes in the good stuff you know? Make him, okay._ Dean felt at a loss, and despite his best efforts he felt hot tears stinging his eyes. _I'm so sorry Sammy, I didn't mean a damn word I said to you. Please, be okay. You can't leave me little brother._

"Dean?" Sue's voice from the door startled him out of his private inner monologue. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," she offered with a small smile as she stepped in.

"You didn't. How's Sam?"

"I came in to tell you they have him settled in his room now, and I took him on as my patient, so I can give you updates whenever you need them, okay?"

"Thanks Sue." He paused for a second. "I want to see him."

"Not tonight Dean. You're in no shape to be moved let alone put in a wheel chair."

"Then put my ass on a gurney and roll me in. I'm seeing Sam."

"I'll talk to your doctor and see about tomorrow, but that's the best I can do." Dean nodded tersely, but offered a smile. He knew Sue was just doing her job.

"How is he?"

"Holding his own." She offered. Dean's eyes glinted ever so slighlty.

"That's my boy." He said quietly more for himself, but Sue had heard nonetheless. She smiled.

Sue excused herself after checking Dean's vitals and changing the dressings on his chest. She had given him a mild sedative to help him sleep knowing that he would fight rest with the knowledge that his kid brother was fighting for his life two rooms away. Before Dean succumbed to the pull of sleep his only thoughts were _Fight Sammy. Stay out of the dark. I won't let you go. Just fight._ And, sleep pulled Dean under and his head lulled to the side, but even in sleep there would be no escape from the worry and the fear of loss for Dean, as his dreams came knocking.

**To Be Continued**

**Once again, let me know what you think. I tried to give you a break from a cliffhanger, but I can't promise there won't be more. At any rate, let me know: Like it? Hate it? **

**Reviews are the only way I know how I'm doing. Thanks in advance!**


	4. When the Silence Falls

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS: **I'm still surprised by the response for this story. I wanted to say thank you to everyone that takes the time to review. I have managed to keep up with personal responses back to those who leave a signed review or their email addresses. And, to everyone that leaves a review, but no contact info, Thanks!

As always, I appreciate all reviews, the short and the long ones. READ and REVIEW!

**Chapter Four**

**When the Silence Falls**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Pray God you can cope … I know you have a little life in you yet. I know you have a lot of strength left … I should be crying, but I just can't let it show. I should be hoping, but I can't stop thinking of all the things I should've said, that I never said … All the things I should have given, but I didn't … Give me these moments back. Give them back to me … Just make it go away now."_ Lyrics excerpt from Kate Bush, _This Woman's Work_

Dean moved restlessly in sleep. His mind too busy weaving dreams, the stuff of nightmares about Sam. His subconscious was putting forth an scenario it could create that mimicked Dean's state of fear and loss.

"_Hey, Dean!" Sam called out to him as he crossed the street holding two coffee cups. The car crossed the center line before Dean could even scream to Sam to watch out, and he watched as the moments that followed played out in slow motion. Sammy turning wide eyed at the car coming at him, the coffee cups slipping from his hands splashing brown liquid up into the air resembling a small park fountain spray. And, then the sickening thud as the car impacted against Sam sending him crashing up onto the hood and into the windshield leaving a bloody impact mark branching on into red spider web designs, as his momentum carried him over the roof, and off the back of the car. He landed with a cracking thud. And, all was silent._

"_No!" Dean dropped to his brother's side. Sammy landed on his back as a pool of thick crimson spread beneath his head. His eyes blinked slowly, and his eyes were unfocused._

"_Dean?" the word bubbled out of his mouth in blood and saliva. _

"_Shh, Sammy," Dean soothed. He ran a trembling hand along Sam's cold cheek. "Just hang on, please."_

"_Dean?" There was a distant sound to Sam's voice as if he were speaking across a widening gap between himself and Dean._

"_I'm here, Sammy. Stay with me." Sam's eyes focused for one glorious moment and Dean saw his little brother appear behind those glassy, eyes, and he smiled at Sam. "There you go," he encouraged. "It'll be okay, Sammy." A barely perceivable smile teased at the edges of Sam's mouth and his eyes slid closed, and it was over._

"_No!" _Dean jerked awake as the nightmare ended. His heart monitor beeped a staccato rhythm to his racing heart that threatened to snap his sternum from the force of the pounding. Sue walked into the room with a determined stride.

"You okay?" She asked as she made eye contact with Dean while she looked at his monitor.

"Just a dream," Dean offered. Sue gave a knowing smile as she checked his vitals, and excused herself to allow him to regroup.

It was late morning when Dean's doctor had agreed to allow him to get in a wheelchair to visit Sam. While Sue had an orderly help her get Dean in a wheelchair he tried to resist grunting in pain. He was afraid Sue would throw a red flag and tell the doctor that he was in too much pain. The orderly left after Dean was safely seated. "You ready?" Sue lightly patted Dean's shoulder as she held his IV stand and pushed the wheelchair in unison with rolling the IV's.

Dean nodded not trusting his voice. "I should tell you what to expect Dean."

"It's Sam that's all that matters."

"I know you think that, but seeing him in this condition isn't something you're used to. There are a lot of machines and monitors. I'll explain them all once we get to his room. You do know the only reason the doctor agreed to let you out of bed was because he was afraid you try to get out on your own."

"And, he would have been right." Sue shook her head.

"You're not in great shape Dean."

"My brother is worse." Sue couldn't debate that issue. "How is he this morning?"

"Same as last night. No real change in his vitals."

"That's good, right?"

"Depends on how you look at it I guess," Sue offered plainly. "He's no worse and no better. I take his vitals every hour or two and check his ICP monitor."

"ICP?"

"Sorry, it's short for intracranial pressure."

"Oh, yeah, the doctor told me about that. He said it's some catheter thing inside Sam's brain measuring the pressure."

"I see you were listening to him."

"Mostly," Dean offered. Sue stopped right before they reached a doorway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Dean's voice was tight as his throat constricted. She pushed him forward and into Sam's room. _Oh Sammy_, went through his mind. Sam was surrounded by machines, IV's and monitors. His brother looked so small and young beneath all of the equipment. He fixated on the tube jutting from his brother's mouth that caused his chest to rise and fall mechanically as the ventilator whooshed in regularity.

Sue tried to gauge Dean's emotional state. But, _he's a tough read this one_, she thought quietly to herself. "Are you ready for me to explain the equipment, so you have a better grasp of what's going on in here?" Dean nodded. She went through explaining the ventilator, his IV's , the EEG monitor that displayed Sam's brain activity, and Sue pointed out the thin catheter of the ICP monitor that came out of his brother's skull. "And, this monitor shows the ICP of Sam's brain." Sue said as she patted Dean's shoulder trying to reassure him that he wasn't alone.

"That number is the pressure in his brain?" Dean questioned.

"Yes."

"What's normal?"

"The lower the better," Sue tried to hedge her response, but Dean's next words told her she wasn't getting away with that answer.

"Sue, what's normal?" She let out a sigh. She had been busted.

"1 to 15," is normal." She offered. Dean looked at Sam's number and frowned.

"His number is 23, that's not good, right?"

"No," Sue responded bluntly knowing that Dean wouldn't take sugar coating. "But," she added quickly when she saw the stricken look cross Dean's face. "It was 24 earlier, so it dropped a point, and that is good," she offered.

"What are they doing for it?" Dean's tone was all business while his eyes settled on his brother's still features.

"They have him on some IV meds."

"Which meds? Show me the IV's." Dean didn't know what the drugs were, but he wanted to make damn sure they were doing everything they could for Sam. Sue smiled warmly and walked over to one of the many IV poles with bags and IV syringes programmed to inject at certain intervals.

"This one is 20 percent Mannitol and this one has Decadron in it," Sue answered. "Both of these are for the brain swelling. They are to help reduce it or control it."

"There's a lot more IV bags beyond those two drugs," Dean commented.

"Well, we have to keep him hydrated with fluids, and they have him on lactated ringers, and dextrose to keep his electrolytes stable. I suspect they will start him on a TPN in another day or two depending on his coma status."

"TPN?"

"It's a short abbreviation for a long term, but in a nutshell, it will be his food since he won't be able to eat. It will supply him with the nutrients his body needs to survive, and the doctor may or may not prescribe lipids for Sam." She saw the look Dean gave her, and smiled again. "Lipids are just another dietary need, but not all patients require it." Dean nodded. Sue grabbed Sam's chart from the table by his bed, and proceeded to jot down his vitals she was gathering from the various monitors. She activated the blood pressure cuff perpetually attached to Sam's upper left arm, and wrote the numbers down. Dean saw her draw up a syringe and injected it into one of his brother's IV's after consulting his chart.

"What's wrong?" Dean's voice was blunt.

"The doctor left standing orders for an epi injection if Sam's blood pressure and heart rate were low. This will help to increase his cardiac output. And, this increased blood flow will help to circulate oxygen rich blood to Sam's brain. That's why it's important to keep a close watch on blood pressure and heart rates of head injury patients like Sam, especially with the brain swelling."

"What was his blood pressure and heart rate?"

"70/65", she replied. "And, his heart rate was 58."

"And, now?" Dean tried scanning the monitors to see some of the numbers that apparently his brother's life was hanging on. _Damn so many numbers Sammy. Dammit, you're more than a number._ Sue took another blood pressure and marked down the numbers.

"His pressure is now up to 100/68, and his heart rate is up to 71." She pointed to the heart monitor. "Here is where you can see his heart rate, and this one is his body temp." She pointed to one smaller monitor. "This one show's his oxygen levels, and that's what the clip on his right index finger is for. He's on a ventilator so his oxygen levels are being maintained. We like numbers around 98 to 100. And, Sam is at 100. I need to do one more thing, okay?" Dean nodded. Sue opened the chart one last time, and proceeded to pick up a pen light and lifted each of Sam's eyelids, and then glanced at a small reference chart attached to his file, and she jotted something down. And, then proceeded to rub Sam's sternum vigorously with her knuckles to elicit a response to pain stimuli, but Sam remained still. "Sam? Can you hear me? Open your eyes? Can you squeeze my hand?" Dean watched her and Sam with intense eyes.

"What was all that for?"

"I have to record his pupil responses every hour or two and check his response to deep pain stimuli and verbal commands. And, based on what I see when I shine the light in his eyes I compare his pupils to the chart and assign Sam a GCS number, or what they call a Glasgow Coma Scale."

"And, what number did he get?" Dean smiled fleetingly. "Sammy always did well on tests. He's the smart one in the family. He went to Stanford, you know?" He looked fondly at his brother. "His number?" He repeated his earlier question.

"There's been no change from his previous exam. I gave him a four on the scale."

"You said low numbers were good," Dean was hopeful. She gave him this knowing yet sympathetic smile, and he knew this time was different.

"No, not on this scale, Dean," she said softly.

"Then what does the number mean? What is this damn scale anyway?"

"It measures level of brain injury," she responded. "Typically a GCS of 13-15 is a mild brain injury, 9-12 moderate, and anything under 8 is usually considered severe brain injury." Dean looked defeated. "I'm sorry sweetie, I know this has to be rough."

Dean only nodded because he couldn't find any words. Sue could tell that he had just about reached his quota of medical information overload. "Look, how about I give you some time alone, but not more than ten minutes, okay. You need to be back in bed. If you need anything before I come back here's the call button."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing," Sue offered a warm smile in an effort to provide some kind of comfort.

"Hey Sammy," Dean cleared his throat after his brother's name came out sounding choked. "Well, kiddo, you just had to up stage your big brother, huh? Had to prove you could be sicker. Not fair," Dean attempted humor. "Sam," Dean's voice was serious. "I said some things yesterday that I shouldn't have. I don't even know why I said them," he scrubbed a hand over his tired face. "I didn't mean any of it." Dean studied his brother silent features as his hearing was bombarded with the whooshing of the ventilator, and the beeping of the heart monitor. "If you'd just wake your lazy ass up I could apologize. Now, that has to have got you interested Sammy. You know that an apology from Dean Winchester is a rare event. Come on," he urged. "Open your eyes Sammy." He stared at his brother's face, but nothing happened.

"Okay, I get it," Dean replied with a small smile. "You're going to force one of your chick flick moments on me, huh? Cause you think I can't hack it, eh? That I can't do chick flick." Dean reached up with both hands taking his little brother's cool, lax hand and enveloped between both of his warm hands. "See what you've reduced me to," Dean commented as he gave Sam's hand a light squeeze. "How about this," Dean suggested. "Just squeeze my hand, okay? Or twitch a finger? Sammy?" Dean could feel the desperation growing inside his chest and weighing down his very soul. He stared at Sam's face and felt panic knowing his little brother was lost in the dark, and had gone somewhere he couldn't follow. "Please, Sammy," his voice broke despite his best efforts to contain his emotions.

Dean glanced at the monitors playing the number game again. He looked at the ICP monitor and it was back up to 24. Dean growled. "Dammit Sammy, you gotta fight this, you hear me? Fuck," he hissed in anger. "All this damn medicine is good for nothing," he spat. He glanced at the other monitors. Sam's heart rate was 65. He wondered what his blood pressure was, but Sue wasn't here to activate the cuff. Dean made a mental note to watch her the next time, so he could cheat and keep track when he wanted to know a current reading. He glanced again at the ICP monitor and saw 25. He felt a sense of urgency growing in his gut. He looked at Sam's heart rate again and saw 62. It was almost a reflex reaction as he picked up the call button even before his mind processed the desire to pick it up. He began frantically pushing it. Sue came running in from the nurse's station.

"Dean! What's wrong?"

"His numbers," Dean barked. He urgently pointed to the ICP and heart monitors. He watched Sue consult Sam's chart, and proceeded to increase drip rates on the mannitol. He remembered that was Sam's brain swelling. He watched her activate the blood pressure cuff and memorized what she did. The numbers came up on a digital display, 70/64. "That's too low, right? You said they should be higher to get the blood to his brain." He felt his world was exploding. He felt like his brother was being pulled away from by some invisible force he couldn't fight or put himself between it and Sammy.

"I'm increasing his drip rates the doctor wrote down should his numbers climb, and I'm giving him a dose of epi to increase his heart rate and blood pressure. Dean," she tried to reassure. "Sam's numbers will go up and down, and until he stabilizes we'll have to keep addressing the up's and down's of his vitals, okay? It'll be all right. See," she pointed to the heart monitor, and Dean saw that his heart rate was up to 84, "that's actually very good." She tried to give Dean something positive to hold onto the young man looked positively desperate and lost. "And, his new blood pressure is 105/70, that's excellent."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she smiled, and glanced at the ICP monitor. "Well, would you look at that," she pointed to the dreaded monitor that Dean hated the most. His eyes darted toward it expectedly. And they both saw the number 20.

"That's down 5 points," Dean said with a confident smile. "That's good isn't it?"

"Very good," she assured. "Dean, I should get you back to your room." She could see he was on the ragged edge, and needed to rest before he collapsed.

"It's too soon," he complained.

"Five more minutes, okay? And, then you go back with me … we have a deal?" Dean couldn't help, but smile.

"Yeah."

"All right then."

**Meanwhile, John Winchester's Hospital Room**

John stirred and groaned into awareness. Everything was fuzzy around the edges. He remembered waking briefly in the ER. He knew there had been a car accident. _My Boys_? Shot through his mind. And, then he remembered his brief meeting with Sam. _Oh, Jesus, what did I say to him_? His mind screamed. The damn medication had made him say things. He had hurt Sammy. He closed his eyes as he remembered Sam's face when he had seen his youngest son standing at the foot of his bed, "_I don't want to see you, Sam. You could have ended it. I thought we saw eye to eye on this issue."_

"_But, Dad," Sam had pleaded. "I told you we still have the gun and the bullet. We'll just start over." His voice sounded so lost. "Dad, I just couldn't do what you wanted."_

"_And, look where it got us," his words were slurred and disjointed, but his point was getting across. "I don't want to see you now. I can't look at you." John turned his eyes from his baby son, but not before he saw the hurt, the pain his words and actions had caused._ He also remembered seeing the bruises on his young son's face, and the tall-tale stitches indicating that Sam had been injured in the wreck. And, he had ranted at his son, _you're a stupid bastard, John Winchester,_ he thought to himself.

"Sonofabitch" he complained to the empty room. "You damn fool," he chastised himself. _You'll talk to him and make it right. Make him understand that you didn't mean the harsh words, not really._ He pressed his call button. His nurse, Alexa, walked in the door.

"Hey, good to see you've decided to join the living," she said smiling. John offered her a slight bemused smile.

"My boys? Where are my boys?"

**Meanwhile, Sam's ICU Room**

"Sammy? They're going to take me away in a few minutes," Dean spoke softly while stroking the back of Sam's hand. "I'd stay, but they won't let me. Damn hospital rules. But, I'm only two doors down, okay," he spoke evenly. "So, if you decide to end your coma boy routine and wake up, just ask for me, all right? I'll be here, I promise." He looked at his brother hopefully waiting for some sign that Sam was coming back to him, but all was stillness. Dean looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was coming, and they weren't, so he struggled to his feet as he hung onto his IV pole for a little leverage as he pulled himself up. He leaned over Sam, and spoke into his ear. "Listen, little brother, I don't know where you are, but you're not alone, okay? Even if you can't see me, I'm there, all right," he encouraged. "I know you're in the dark Sammy, but if you can hear me follow my voice." He closed his eyes as his emotions threatened once again, as they rose up like a cresting wave, only to recede as he pushed them back down quelling them.

"You're not alone Sammy. Please…" his voice broke off.

"Dean!" Sue spoke authoritatively from her viewpoint from the opening to Sam's room. "You should not be up," she reprimanded. Her voice dropped low, as she pointed to the wheel chair. "Sit, your ass back down on that chair mister." Dean stared at her wide-eyed both at her words, and that this small stature, petite woman suddenly looked like a formidable opponent. Dean Winchester sat back down. He looked up at her from his newly seated vantage point.

"I just had something to say to him," he spoke quietly. "I…" Sue's eyes softened as she looked at Dean and heard the anguish buried beneath his words.

"I know," she cupped a hand reassuringly over one of his shoulders. "I'm sorry," she offered. "My temper is a slow burn, but when ignited I go off like an M-80 firecracker, I apologize. It's just I don't want you doing yourself more harm," she spoke softly. Dean nodded. "And, anyway, what good would you be to this brother of yours if you're not running on all eight cylinders, huh?" Dean smiled.

"Eight, huh?"

"Sure, you don't strike me as the 6-cylinder type of guy." Dean quirked an eye at her. "I have brothers," she filled in. Dean gave a knowing nod.

"When can I see Sam again?"

"How about we let you rest up a bit. See if we can get some breakfast in you, and I'll see about letting you have some time this afternoon. Deal?"

"Yeah, okay."

There conversation was ended as Alexa called over to Sue from the nurse's station. "One minute Dean."

"Okay." She could take all the time she wanted. It gave him more time to sit at his brother's side.

"Sue," Alexa began as she nodded her head in Dean's direction. "His Father's awake and wants to see his boys. I haven't told him about the youngest one condition."

"Oh, okay. Let me tell Dean. I really wanted to get him back in bed, but seeing his Father and talking to him may help."

And, she couldn't have been more wrong.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, here we are once again, another chapter. How was it? I'm thankful for all of the reviews! Please, keep them coming as they are a wonderful way that I'm able to gauge how the story is going. Like it? Hate it? It's just okay? **

**Read and Review! Thanks in advance.**


	5. Casualty of Words

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for sticking with the story, so far. I hope you're enjoying it. I have had a great review turn out for this story, and I'd love to hear from even more readers. Thanks again!

READ and REVIEW.

**Chapter Five**

**Casualty of Words**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_There will be no consolation prize, this time the bone is broken clean, no baptism, no reprise, and no sweet taste of victory. All the stars have fallen from the sky and everything else in between. Satellites have closed their eyes, the moon has gone to sleep…"_ Lyrics excerpt by Jann Arden, _Unloved_

Sue stepped back inside Sam's ICU room. "Dean?"

"Yeah," he answered absently not taking his eyes off his brother's face.

"You're father," she began. Dean jerked his head up his eyes wide. "No…No," she assured quickly. "He's fine. He's awake and has asked to see 'his boys'." Dean noticeably relaxed.

"Does he know about…" his voice trailed off as his eyes settled once again on his brother.

"No, but he's fully awake now, albeit a little groggy from the drugs, but coherent."

"I want to see him."

"I thought you'd say that, but I'm keeping my eye on you, and I'm not letting you visit very long. You need your rest, as well."

"Yeah-yeah," Dean said with a sly smile.

"Don't yeah-yeah, me mister."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's more like it." She laughed lightly. "It's a good thing you're only a couple rooms up or down from your dad and brother … easy commute," she offered with a smile trying to assuage Dean's heavy thoughts. Sue rolled Dean into John's room. The elder Winchester opened his eyes as he heard someone enter his room. His eyes fell on Dean sitting in a wheel chair. His firstborn looked tired, and pale. He saw the IV pole and the signs of gauze under his gown.

"Son? Are you okay?" His voice was thick with concern.

"I'm okay, Dad." John looked at Sue when Dean's answer was obviously a lie.

"He had surgery to correct a punctured lung, and a nicked artery. He also had to receive two blood transfusions, and should be in bed, but a short visit should be okay." She conceded quickly. "I'll leave you two men alone for a bit," she patted Dean on the shoulder before leaving.

"Dean? Son, are you really up to talking I don't want to take any chances with your health." He studied his son for a long moment. "So, where is that brother of yours keeping himself? He has to be driving you nuts with his hovering by now, huh?" He said with a smile. Dean raised stricken eyes to his father at the mention of Sammy, but then he remembered what Sam had said before he collapsed that their father hadn't wanted to see him, even blamed him. He hadn't been able to believe that and wanted to give his Dad the benefit of the doubt. "Dean? What is it?"

"Dad," he began. "I have one thing I want to ask you and I want the truth." Dean was suddenly all business as he buried thoughts of Sam a couple doors down being kept alive by machines.

"What is it?" John could see the urgency in his son's face.

"Did you turn Sammy away? Tell him you didn't want to see him? Blame him for not," he lowered his voice. "For not killing you?" Dean saw the briefest of looks cross his father's face, and he knew the truth even before John Winchester answered the question. "You bastard!" Dean shouted before he could stop himself. Suddenly the nurse's station outside his father's room grew very quiet.

"Watch your tone," John hissed. "And, lower your voice."

"Screw you," Dean ground out with a lowered voice. "He came to you for acceptance Dad, and you turned him away. How could you?"

"I was wrong, Dean." John paused. "I'd like to blame it on the meds, but I won't. I was angry, but the words all came out wrong."

"How could you blame him for not doing what you wanted, what you asked him to do?"

"Dean."

"No! How could you ask him to?" he lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "To kill you? Huh? Do you know what that would have done to him Dad? Do you! It would have destroyed him. You only think about yourself and what you want," Dean barked. "This damn revenge is all you care about."

"That's not true," John tried to calm the situation.

"Yes, it is," Dean leveled a hard glare at his father.

"I've made mistakes with you boys … I know I have. But, I want to try to…"

"Fuck you," Dean snapped. "Now, suddenly you're going to try to be father of the year," the sarcasm in Dean's voice was thick. "Sam and I do just fine on our own. We always have!" John felt like he had been slapped across the face when Dean spoke those words. It was the truth though, he had drug his boys all over when they were little while he hunted and continued his search for the demon that killed Mary, and had left them alone for days in motel rooms while he hunted. He had been a miserable father when it was all boiled down. His priorities had been screwed up, of course he had tried to justify his actions by saying he was keeping his boys alive, and making them prepared, but he had robbed them of their childhoods.

"You're right," John offered suddenly to his obviously enraged son. "But, I can try to make things right."

"You can't, Dad. You know I said things to Sammy, too. I was an ass, I admit that. But, somehow what you did is so much worse," he started. "You're his father, the parent and, what you demanded not asked of him in that cabin was unforgivable."

"I'll set things right with him Dean. It'll be okay," John offered.

"You can't." Dean said dropping his eyes as his enraged façade began to fall away as his emotions rose up again.

"Yes, I can," John began. "Get Sammy in here. I'll talk to him. I'll make things right."

"You can't!" Dean shouted once again not caring that others might hear.

"Why? Where's Sam? Just have him come in here. Dean?" John looked at Dean and saw the raw emotion in his face. "Where is your brother," his voice dropped to a lower octave laced with a sudden fear.

"He collapsed," Dean began with a broken voice. "His brain…" he couldn't finish.

"Dean? What's wrong with your brother?" Dean couldn't find the words. "Jesus, say something. What's wrong with Sammy?" Something in Dean snapped. He reached over and shoved the small plastic water container on John's bed table toward his father dousing him with water.

"He might die! That's what the fuck is wrong with him," Dean screamed. "He's on just about every machine they have in this god forsaken hospital." Sue came running in at the prolonged yelling and the sound of the plastic pitcher hitting the floor and skittering across the white tiles. "You bastard… don't you dare act like you care now," Dean spat.

"Dean, please, you need to calm down," Sue urged as she tried to wheel him away from his father's bedside.

"You stay away from him, do you hear me. We don't need you!" Dean continued to shout as Sue forcibly wheeled Dean out of the room and didn't stop until she had reached Dean's room.

John Winchester sat in stunned silence for a long moment, and then pressed his call button. Alexa, his nurse walked in. "Is everything okay?" She had heard the yelling, but didn't want to pry.

"I want to speak with my son's doctor. Sam Winchester's doctor."

"I'll have him paged." John nodded.

**Dean's ICU Room**

"What were you thinking Dean?" Sue chastised as she helped him back into his bed. "Let me answer that for you…" she stopped Dean before he could say anything. "You didn't think. Do you know you could have pulled your sutures carrying on like that, do you!"

"Stop talking to me like I'm some little kid," Dean barked. He bristled at Sue's words. "You don't even know anything about my family. So, don't tell me how to act. That bastard is lucky that I couldn't stand up long enough to take a swing at him." Dean turned his face away from Sue in anger. She walked purposely over to the door and closed it. She turned back toward Dean. She walked up to his bed and slapped a piece of the mattress jarring Dean.

"Now, you listen here!" Her eyes were blazing. "I'm not going to tolerate you flapping your mouth at me because you're acting like some indignant child. I know you have a lot on your plate, I do. I know you're so tied up in knots over your little brother that you can hardly concentrate on anything else. And, you're right, I don't have a clue about your family, but what I do know is that man, your father obviously cares for you and Sam. I can see it in his eyes, and maybe you have every reason to be angry, but to disrupt an entire unit that might I add has some very sick patients in it, including yourself and your family. You're in no shape to spouting of at your father even if he deserves whatever you think he deserves. The whole unit could hear you," her words were flooding out of her like a waterfall. This young man was driving her to distraction. She found herself carrying too much for him and his younger sibling. And, she tried so hard to never take her work home with her at night, but these boys and their situation had given her some sleepless night, as of late. "What if your brother heard you yelling at your father?"

Dean's eyes darted to Sue's and she saw devastation in them. "Is he okay? I didn't make him worse?" She saw a shudder work its way through Dean, and she pulled a blanket up over his legs.

"Dean, shh…" her voice was suddenly soft and comforting. "Calm down. I did a vitals check while you were with your father. He's fine. It's just that I believe coma patients are able to hear a lot of what is going on around them, and recognize the voices of people they know. And, I don't think that if he did catch wind of some of your yelling that he would find much comfort in it."

"I'm sorry," his voice shook. "I'd never do anything to hurt Sam, never."

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just you scared me by getting so worked up. I'd hate to see you take a step back in your recovery. You need to think about yourself, too, you know? Because if the doctor doesn't think you're up for visiting Sam he'll cut you off."

"I know. I got it."

**John Winchester's ICU Room, Two Hours Later**

John sat in stunned silence after listening to his youngest son's condition. Dr. Kendrick had been blunt, and said that Sam chances of a meaningful recovery were unlikely. It had bothered John more than he admitted that the doctor had basically given up on Sammy. The man could have said _slim chance_ but instead had used _unlikely_ which felt as though he had all ready signed off on Sam. He couldn't believe that there was no hope, not yet, at least. He'd get second and third opinions if he had, too. He pressed his call button.

"Hi, Mr. Winchester, what can I get you?" Alexa asked with a smile.

"I want to see my son." Alexa nodded and went about getting John a wheelchair. And twenty minutes later they were on their way. John was glad that his room was a couple up on the other side of Sam's room, and meant he wouldn't have to be wheeled by Dean's room that was two down from Sam's on the other side.

John sat solemnly at his son's bedside holding his cool, limp hand. Alexa had pointed out most of what Sue had pointed out and explained to Dean. John felt overwhelmed that he'd basically been given something akin to an orientation on medical equipment and IV drugs. He stared at his young son's features, and felt lost. "Sammy?" His voice was gentle. "It's Dad. I'm here, kiddo." He reached up and stroked Sam's face avoiding the tube jutting from his child's mouth. He tried desperately to avoid watching the mechanical rise and fall of his son's chest. He found himself staring at the protruding ICP catheter coming from Sam's head. He glanced at the number on the gauge and settled his eyes back on his youngest child's face. "I said some things the other day Sam that I shouldn't have," he spoke quietly. "I didn't mean any of it. But, I'll make you a deal … if you wake up and prove these damn doctors wrong I'll let you rip me a new one like your brother did." A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as the thought of Sammy ranting at him entered his mind. The kid did have a fire in his belly, and a temper like his old man's when he got fired up.

"You gotta come through this Sammy," John urged. "Open your eyes." All was stillness, and Sam didn't move. John sat at Sam's side in silence as he continued to methodically stroke the back of his son's hand with a thumb.

"Mr. Winchester," Alexa's voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked at her. "I should get you back to your room." He reluctantly released Sam's hand.

"All right, but I want to see him again later."

"We'll work something out," she assured.

**Later that Evening**

Sue and Alexa had tried to choreograph the visiting in Sam's room, both women afraid of another confrontation. But, when Alexa was called to cover a new admit John's care was turned over to Michelle who just started her shift, and she wasn't up to speed on the visiting arrangements for Sam's room. However, she knew that his son's were ICU patients. So, when John asked to see his son she haply agreed. Dean looked up as his father was rolled into the room. He bristled at the sight of him. Dean tightened his grip on Sam's hand, as if staking his claim. John noticed. "Thanks Michelle," John replied.

"You're welcome. I'll be back in a bit to take you back. Oh, hello," she said to Dean noticing him as she turned around.

"Hi," he offered as he ignored his father on the other side of Sammy's bed.

"You must be his brother," she commented as she looked at Sam. Dean nodded. "Okay, then. I guess I better go check on a couple patients. I'll be back, Mr. Winchester." John acknowledged her with a nod and slight smile. The room fell into silence except for the sound of the equipment filling the room.

"Dean?" John spoke softly.

"Not here Dad," Dean made sure his voice was quiet. "It's not good for him to hear us fight." Dean stroked the side of Sam's arm softly. He didn't care about keeping up pretenses in front of his father. Sue had said that contact was good for Sam when she had left Dean here for his second visit. Contact and talking were good, so that's what he'd do.

"I don't want to fight with you, son" John offered lightly. "I know you're angry with me, and I accept that, but we should try to make this work for Sammy's sake." His voice was a mere whisper. Dean met his father's eyes and gave him a curt nod. It seemed an unspoken truce had been agreed to between father and son for the time being. "Hi Sammy, it's Dad again," John reached up and grasped Sam's fingers loosely being mindful of the IV in the back of his hand. "I spoke with his doctor today."

"And?" Dean kept his eyes on his little brother's face.

"I want a second or third opinion," he replied without saying anything negative in front of Sam. Dean looked at his father now knowing he had been given the same line he had from the doctor that Sam wasn't going to come back from this, not even if he woke up. And, he had decided that no matter what he was sticking to his belief in his brother that Sam wasn't lost, and there was hope. He would never give up on his little brother, never.

"Well, at least we agree about something." His voice keeping a steady tone. "Sue said talking and physical contact was good for Sammy." John smiled at his firstborn.

"At least that's something we can do," he replied keeping his tone light. "Sam will have his own personal tag team." Dean offered his father a pensive smile. _Well, that's better than nothing, I guess_, John thought to himself. John stroked Sam's fingers, "Sammy?" he began. "Did I ever tell you when you were three what you did to your brother while he was sleeping?" John smiled at the memory. Dean did, too. The two Winchester men had found their lighthouse in the stormy ocean of their relationship, and it was Sam. But, as with all approaching weather systems, there is always a calm before the storm, and for the Winchesters their storm hadn't truly hit yet, but it would.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, is this losing steam for you? Should I cast this story to the land of 'delete file'? Let me know what you think. Like, hate, indifferent, disappointed, or bored? I appreciate every review that a reader takes the time to leave. Thanks again!**


	6. The Other Side of Reason

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS:** My apologies if this story seems to be moving slowly. I've had some comments that equate down to 'hurry up and move it along,' basically. But, in my defense I think the current frame of time in this story of this story may be a little nebulous, so I'll reiterate. The Winchesters had only been in the hospital the tune of 30 hours before Sam collapsed, so Sam has actually only been in his coma more like 2 days, not weeks. I'm moving it along as quickly as I can, so I've decided to start advancing in mini to medium chunks of time.

I appreciate every comment and review. I understand it takes time to read a fic and leave a review, so I am thankful. Please, continue to leave a review as you finish a chapter.

READ and REVIEW.

**Chapter Six**

**The Other Side of Reason**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Silence is breakin' like a rain pourin' down I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how. The truth is a dark cloud that won't go away; it lives in the shadow of what we don't say. Tonight is a long one, no candles for the dark, wind blows down the hallway, no shelter for a heart. If I had wings I'd fly you away, safe at a distance from this lonely place…"_ Lyrics excerpt by Daniel Lavoie, _I Wish It Would Rain_

**Almost Three Months Later**

Dean walked through the halls of the hospital toward the neurology unit. He carried a cup of coffee. He hadn't wanted to leave Sammy, always afraid that he'd have a moment of true awareness and he wouldn't be there, but he needed a drink and to stretch his legs. His little brother had surprised the ICU doctors when he began to emerge from the deeper coma after two weeks. The ICP monitor was removed and Sam was taken off the ventilator. Dean remembered how excited he was when he turned around one day from reading a car magazine while his father was in yet another conference with Sam's doctors to see Sam's eyes open. Dean and his father had both been released from the hospital the week Sam opened his eyes. Sam's eyes weren't focused on any one thing and when Dean had spoken to him it was as if Sam didn't see or hear him. But, somehow Dean saw past the blankness and was just happy to see his little brother's eyes open once again.

The doctors had said Sam was still in a form of a coma, but that the deeper coma was lessening. The doctors had said Sam was having no meaningful interaction with his environment, but was now exhibiting sleep and wake cycles. They had scribbled in his chart _coma vigil_ under his status area. Dean had taken to reading Sam's chart they left at the bedside because he had grown tired of the doctor conferences and their lack of faith in Sam to come through this, although the chart wasn't anymore comforting, at least he didn't have to listen to them talk. But, John had never stopped going to the conferences, and was speaking to the doctors frequently. He had indeed requested second and third opinions concerning his youngest child's condition. Dean thought back to the day the evaluations were over and John had gone to talk to the two doctors, Dean refused to leave Sam's side. "Anything I want to hear?" Dean asked as his father had entered the room. John shook his head.

"What do they know, right?" Dean had been comforted by the fact his father seemed to be a believer like he was that Sam would be okay, eventually. That Sammy was still in there somewhere groping around in the dark trying to find his way home.

The doctors had transferred Sam from the ICU at the end of three weeks, and put him in a room in the neurology unit. He shared a room with another patient, but Dean tried to ignore that bed as much as possible. The other bed was across the room in the corner. The young man had been in a motorcycle accident and hadn't been wearing a helmet. He had heard the story, he was only eighteen, and the motorcycle was a graduation present from his father, but the kid had taken it out without his helmet. And, now the family was making preparations to have him cared for outside the hospital, and Dean knew the kid would have no life. He could look at the kid and see there was no spirit left inside to ever animate that shell of a body again. Dean vowed that would never be Sam's fate.

John had found an extended stay suites hotel in the city not more than five minutes from the hospital, and had rented a room there for the two of them after their release. Dean had been adamant that someone was always with Sam, but he had to admit the logic of having a home base beyond the hospital. The place had two rooms, one with the beds and bathroom. The other room had a couch, a recliner, desk, TV and small kitchenette. There was also a small stackable washer and dryer in a closet. Dean preferred taking the day shift with Sam since he was able to see him with his eyes open more times than not. John would sit in the early evening with Sam while Dean went to the hotel. But, sometimes John had urged Dean to sleep at the hotel and not the hospital, however, more times than not is oldest child slept in a sleeping chair beside his brother, ever vigilant.

John had taken a job at a local garage where the owner had agreed to pay him under the table for his work. He was sympathetic to John's situation with a son in the hospital and not being local. John only worked at the shop four days a week, but somehow the he had figured out a way to make it all work. He was always there when the doctors did their rounds and would conference with them once a week about Sam and he would sit and talk to his son.

At the beginning of Sam's second month while Dean sat reading to him from a book he had found in his little brother's things. Sam would stare off into nothing, but Dean had just kept reading. A sound of someone walking in had drawn his attention. And, he remembered the day even now. It was a Monday afternoon, the beginning of March, the 2nd, and the sun was coming in through the window. It was the day April Ian walked into his life. A five-foot five petite little pistol of a woman that took Dean's breath away. She was twenty-six, big blue eyes, and shoulder length strawberry blonde hair. When she introduced herself, Dean remembered how he had been staring at her mouth. Her lips formed this perfect heart-shaped pout between her words. He would have sworn the universe was gravitating toward that perfect mouth.

"I'm April. I'll be Sam's PT."

"Uh, Dean," he stammered with his name extending a hand to meet her out reached one.

"PT? She smiled, and his world exploded.

"Sorry, short for physical therapist."

"Really?" the look of obvious confusion filled his face. "But…"

"Well, until he has more purposeful movements," April began. "I'm going to be working his legs, and arm muscles. And, keep his joints moving. I don't want him to start drawing in his limbs." She glanced over at the other bed, and Dean had followed her gaze. His eyes fell on the bed he avoided. The young man's arms were drawn up tightly across his chest with his hands in tight inward turned fists across his stomach. April saw the look of distress on Dean's face. "Hey, Sam isn't in his condition, okay?" she assured. "And, I'm here to make sure his muscles keep getting worked." Dean nodded. "Hey, I mean it, okay? Sam is all ready better off than Kyle is," she comforted. Dean smiled, and did find comfort in her words.

"The doctors, have they spoken to you about his progress?"

"Progress?" Dean looked at her with curious eyes. "Ah, I don't really listen to them anymore. I leave that to my dad. I got tired of hearing that they think Sam has no chance. I don't think they've ever used the word _progress_," his voice bitter. "They just scribble with their little damn pens in his chart under status."

"Well, I've evaluated him and his chart, and I think there is a lot that can be done to help Sam in his recovery." Relief had flooded through Dean that day. "And, I've seen my share of cases that have had some good results. And, one or two have been nothing short of miracles. But you have to be proactive, you know?" Dean nodded. He'd do anything for Sammy. It was hard to believe that March was almost over now.

Dean came out of his memories, as his father walked in. He glanced at his watch and knew that April would be here in thirty minutes for Sam's PT session. "Hey, Dad?"

"Hi, how ya doin'?"

"Okay," Dean stood and approached Sam's bed; it was time to turn him. Dean remembered that after watching Sue turn Sam while in the ICU every hour or two that when he had been released he wanted to learn what to do. He wanted to do as much for his brother as he could, and if that meant turning him, so he wouldn't get bed sores because he couldn't turn himself he would.

"Need help?" John took a step forward.

"No I got it." John watched his firstborn pull back the sheets on Sam's bed. "Hey, Sammy, buddy. I gotta turn you okay," Dean said gently. Sam was on his side facing the door of his room. John hated the empty stare in Sam's eyes that blinked sluggishly when reflex demanded. He watched Dean pull the pillow out from between Sam's long legs, and gently roll his brother onto his back. "There you go Sammy," his voice gentle. "How about you try a different view for a while from your back? Hey, April will be here soon for your PT. Aren't you a lucky dog," he quipped. "She's smokin' hot." He sat the pillow aside. John watched Dean gently arrange Sam's arms and legs into a comfortable position. And, suddenly he felt like an intruder. Dean took a hold of Sam's head and turned it slightly toward the window. "See the blue sky today, Sammy?" John felt a part of his soul rip as he watched his son care for his other child.

"Dean?" John began tentatively.

"Yeah?" Dean could tell there was something important his father wanted to discuss.

"I spoke with the doctors this morning."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, they say Sammy is ready to be released from hospital care. He's been here almost three months now. Well, at the end of the week it'll be three months. They spoke to me about two facilities outside the city that can care for Sammy. They're both state run facilities that can accommodate a patient with no insurance. We can't keep up with the credit cards Dean. I've been able to cover so far with some other cards, but…"

"Care for? You mean rehab facilities, right?" And, that's when Dean saw a look pass over his father's face that he couldn't let himself believe he was seeing, but his father's next words only confirmed his fears, John now believed the doctors prognosis for Sam.

"No, Dean." John's voice was soft. "Long-term care facilities."

"Long-term care," Dean hissed. He cast his eyes toward Sam staring blankly toward the window. His head in the same position Dean had put it. "I'll be back in a minute, okay Sammy? I just gotta talk to Dad in the hall." His voice was upbeat as he spoke to his little brother. "Outside," he said to his father. The timbre of his voice indicating he meant business. Dean walked with purpose and stopped a few feet away from Sam's room in a quiet corner cut off from hall traffic. "What the hell do you mean long-term care, Dad?"

"Dean, son…"

"Don't," Dean barked. "You believe these quacks don't you?"

"Dean, I have seen the scans. I have seen his progress. We can't care for him Dean. A state facility can."

"Care for," Dean hissed. "They'll treat him like a plant, Dad. They'll feed and water him, and that's it. He needs a rehab facility. He needs stimulus."

"Dean, Sam isn't going to get better. Rehab won't do anything for him. We can visit him whenever we want," John's face looked stricken.

"Fuck you then," Dean spat. "You're done," he barked. "You stay away from him."

"What? He's my child Dean," John warned. "I'm his father, and I'm making the decisions for his care now."

"The hell you are," Dean walked up to his father and stood mere inches from his face.

"I've all ready started the paperwork for his transfer at the end of the week." John should have seen it coming, but he didn't. He felt the impact of Dean's fist against his jaw and he stumbled back, the punch was vicious. He tasted the familiar copper taste of blood in his mouth. Dean was on him in an instant, his hands grabbing his father's flannel shirt roughly. He pinned his father against the wall.

"I'm not going to let you send Sammy to a hell hole to rot," he barked. "You just don't want to deal with his recovery. I'll be damned if I let you throw him away!" John attempted to jerk away from his son, but Dean simply increased his hold, pulled back on his father's shirt quickly and slammed the man back into place. John saw into Dean's eyes and hesitated. He saw a feral rage in them, but he also saw the eyes of the deadly hunter he had raised. He stilled under his son's grasp.

"Sammy's gone, Dean." John spoke evenly. "We can't care for him. And, I'm not going to let you waste your life taking care of your brother." He immediately knew the word _waste_ had come out sounding wrong. He felt Dean shift suddenly and then his son's forearm pushed against his throat effectively shutting off his air. Now, he fought back. He countered under his son's grip, and shoved Dean into the wall away from him.

"Taking care of Sammy isn't a waste of my life!" Dean countered with ferocity.

"That's not what I meant, son. He isn't going to get better Dean. The doctor's say he's reached a plateau in his status. They said they don't expect him to ever interact with his world or people. He'll never really know us again, Dean." John watched his son stare at him. His eyes wide and he saw the pain his words were causing him. Dean had always been a realist, but when Sam had been hurt he saw another Dean emerge, an optimist, a believer in possibilities. And, now he was forcing his son into a stark blinding light he'd been refusing to look into. "We can't fix him Dean. But, we can see that he's cared for."

"We can't fix him?" Dean's voce was incredulous. "He's not a broken kitchen appliance," Dean hissed. "I know he needs a lot of care, Dad. I'm not fooling myself. But, I'm not going to stand by and let you pack him off to be housed in some institute to lay in a bed the rest of his life. And, don't fool yourself, with the words long-term care; you want to send Sammy to an institution."

"Sam wouldn't want you to give up your life to sit by him. You can visit."

"How are these words even coming out of your mouth?" Dean barked. "You're his father, and you've given up on him. You're throwing him out like garbage."

"Dean, I'm not," John countered. "I checked the places out. And, the Meadowbrook Care Center will be able to provide for Sammy. And, the state can make accommodations for not having insurance. I've seen the place. Sam will be okay there. Stop kidding yourself about his potential Dean. We've lost him."

"You're completely fucked in the head, you know that right?" Dean replied dead panned. "Meadowbrook? Who's kidding themselves now? You act like you're sending him off to Club Med or something." Dean glared at his father. "Do they even provide therapy? Physical, speech, occupational? April said it's important Sam have that stuff at minimum, but there's a lot more. I mean, will they work with him, keep his muscles moving? What about hydrotherapy, he likes it," he paused. "I know he does. He doesn't have to speak for me to understand that. It helps make him more comfortable and calms his muscle spasms … they go away after it."

"Dean," John hated seeing his son like this, but he had to make him accept the way things were. "April, is very good at what she does, but she isn't one of Sam's doctors. It's her job to make family's feel good. And, to be positive about Sam's therapy. It's her job."

"That's bullshit! She's been straight with me, and she says Sam has a chance at something. I don't know what that something will turn out to be, but I want to give him that chance. I can't believe you're not willing too."

"Dean, I haven't given up on your brother. I'm just accepting his limitations now, and he has come back as far as he's going to. Meadowbrook will take care of his needs."

"He's not going there," Dean's tone turned deadly.

"It's not your decision to make Dean. What? You have the money to spend on a rehab facility? They won't take him anyway, Dean. The doctors have declared him profoundly brain damaged with persistent unawareness and there isn't a rehab that will take him. And, I can't blame them. He isn't going to get better Dean. There isn't a curve of improvement here, and the sooner you accept that Sammy is gone the better off you'll be."

"Well, then I guess all of you dumb asses in this place should take a better look at Sammy's chart. I saw the initial paperwork he filled out in the ER before he signed the AMA papers. He had to designate a person in charge of his medical care should he become incapacitated in the event of a complication. It might have been just routine paperwork, but it still sticks," Dean shouted. "He put my name down Dad. I'll find a rehab to take him. Sam's my responsibility. And, you can take your Meadowbrook plans and shove them up your ass!" He yelled, and began to walk away. John followed, and spotted one of Sam's doctors.

"Doctor," John spoke with impatience.

"Mr. Winchester? Is there a problem?" Dean stood glaring at both men, as he felt a smug grin of satisfaction creeping across his mouth. "I have the paperwork almost complete for the transfer to Meadowbrook on Friday."

"My son said his names on my son's paperwork for all of his medial decisions, is that true?"

"Uh, I don't know. I just assumed you're his father, and never even looked." He pulled up Sam's file in the computer, and a scan of the original forms he had signed. "Well, it say's here: Name of party given permission to make medical and care decisions in the event of complications or incapacitation: Dean Winchester. Relation to patient: Brother." And, you clearly saw Sam's signature sighed and dated at the bottom of the form.

Sam had used Dean's real last name for the paperwork, and Dean doubted his brother was really even thinking straight when he had filled out those papers, but he seriously doubted some small hospital would ever know that Dean Winchester died in St. Louis. It wasn't like he was the only Dean Winchester in the world.

"So, what does that mean?" John barked. "Is he right? He can control my son's care?

"Yes," the doctor said bluntly.

"I want to petition for a change," John raised his voice. "I'm his father."

"Well, there is no need to make a change. This shouldn't be a problem. I can just transfer the Meadowbrook paperwork to your son's name and get his signature for the paperwork."

"Like Hell Kevorkian," Dean grumbled. "My brother isn't be shipped off to some hole in the wall place to be forgotten. He's going to a rehab facility."

"Ah, I just assumed you were both at a consensus for Sam's care."

"Not even close," Dean hissed as his eyes shifted between the doctor and his father.

"Well, I can't tell you where to send your brother, but I can tell you his chart isn't going to change, and based on his status confirmed by this hospital he will not be accepted into rehab facility. He won't meet their acceptance criteria. You're brother has no chance of meaningful recovery." Dean glanced at his watch and saw he'd been away from Sam for almost forty minutes.

"I've wasted enough of my time and my brother's with you quacks. I'm going to see my brother."

"Sir," the doctor called out. "We'll need a decision concerning his care by the end of the week. We are ready to release him. He no longer requires the care of a hospital."

"Yeah-yeah," Dean stormed off.

"Can I contest the paperwork?" John asked.

"You could try court, but he was lucid and in grasp of his own actions when he filled out the forms." John looked defeated. He felt like Dean was going to spend the rest of his life taking are of his brother who wouldn't even know he was there. John nodded. "Mr. Winchester, I know this isn't what you want to hear from me now, but the staff will have to consult your son from now on and any care while Sam is with us."

"I know." He walked off needing some air.

Dean approached Sam's room and heard April's sweet voice. "So, Sam? Where is that brother of yours? Hmm? He's usually on guard duty. Hey, look at your flexibility today, good for you," her voice bubbly as she grasped his right leg under his knee and at his ankle stretching it out and bending it back flexing his knee.

"Hi April," Dean spoke with a broad smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You okay?" She had been studying his face and mannerisms for a month now while treating Sam.

"They want to ship Sam off?"

"Yeah, but that's good news," she replied. "He'll be out of the hospital."

"Yeah, well, my Dad and those quacks were making plans to send him to some place called Meadowbrook."

"Meadowbrook! No, no, Sam can't go there," her voice lost its bubbly quality and was deadly serious.

"I know. I told them he wasn't being shipped off to an institution. I don't care if they won't make us pay. But, these damn doctors put crap in his file, and said no rehab will take Sammy. I'm on his paperwork to make his decisions, and I'm not sticking him in some hell hole that will feed, water, and turn him, ya know?"

"Dean," April could see the stress lines pulling at Dean's face. She hated seeing that look. She had grown quite attached to that face, and hated seeing it upset. She saw Sam more times during a week than other PT patients for more reasons than patient care, but there was something about Samuel Winchester and that brother of his that she felt compelled to be around. And, Dean made her stomach flip flop when he was around. "When I finish with Sam's therapy, I'm going to look into something's for you and Sam, okay?"

"You don't have to," Dean answered.

"I know I don't, but I may have an idea, okay?"

"Thanks April," he reached out and gave her elbow a soft squeeze, and she thought her skin would ignite under his touch. She simply smiled.

**Three Hours Later**

John walked back into Sam's room and met Dean's hard stare. "I'm not going to contest the papers," he said simply as he sat down. "It'd be pointless to go through court to do this. Dean, he's my son," he stated simply. "I want you to sign over his care to me."

"No way," Dean answered flatly keeping his voice low. Sam had closed his eyes an hour ago, and was sleeping.

"I'm not asking you Dean. I'm ordering you."

"I said no." Dean shifted in his seat. "You don't get to call the shots anymore Dad. This is my life, and if it means visiting Sammy everyday the rest of my life, I will. He's getting into a rehab. Some place will take him."

"No they won't."

"I know you think I'm off in La-La Land or something, but I'm not. I know Sam could stay like this forever, I know that, okay? But, I don't believe that he will. I know he can be helped. I told you before that Sam has a chance at something, and I'm giving him that chance."

"What about your life Dean? You can honestly say you're ready for this routine to be the rest of your life?"

"I know I can't stay with him 24/7, I know I'll have to get a place and work. But, yeah, I'm willing to make a life wherever I have to if that means I know Sam is getting the best chance he can get. It's not my problem you're not willing to do the same. And, just because you're not doesn't make me wrong."

"What about the hunt? The people you could save? The demon?"

"Screw it all, Dad. It doesn't matter. Sam matters."

"I can't support this Dean. You're throwing your life away."

"I'm not asking for your support Dad. I couldn't give a rat's ass what you think," he hissed quietly. "And, if I am throwing my life away, and I don't feel I am, but if I am, guess what? It's my life!"

"I can't talk to you when you're acting like this?" John stood up to leave, but stopped short. He walked over to Sam's bedside and kissed his son on the forehead gently as he ran his hand through Sam's long bangs. "Sleep well Sammy." He stood back from Sam and leveled a look on Dean. "I'll try talking to you when your head is clearer."

"My head is clear, Dad. Crystal clear." He watched John Winchester turn on his heel and leave the room.

Twenty minutes after his father had left Dean heard footsteps enter. "What you came back for more," his voice harsh. He looked up and saw April entering. "Sorry, I thought you were my Dad."

"It's okay. No harm, no foul," she attempted to add some levity to the obviously tense air in the room. "Sorry, it took me so long to get back to you, but I had to leave the hospital for a meeting about Sam."

"About Sam?"

"Remember I said I might have an idea?"

"Yeah," Dean was taken off guard slightly still. "Did your idea pan out? I mean, if it didn't, I really appreciate…" She put her hand up and smiled.

"I took my file on Sam to Ivy Ridge," when she saw that Dean hadn't heard the name before. "I'm not surprised it was on the list of places Sam could go to. It's a rehab center about 15 miles outside the city. It's one of the best in the country actually, for brain and spinal trauma cases. I'll be honest my aunt is the Director of the center. She's a neurologist that specializes in traumatic brain injury, but before she was a doctor she was a physical therapist like me, and she has more open views on neurological recovery. I mean don't get me wrong, she knows when there is no hope for recovery, and she doesn't pull punches or give false hope." April paused a second and could see Dean was listening intently to her every word.

"Dean, my aunt has seen his records, and copies of his scans. And, my care notes for his therapy. She believes that the center could help Sam progress further than his current state. And, I told her about the financial burden and lack of health insurance. I hope you don't mind." Dean shook his head assuring her understood why she had to place all cards on the table. "Anyway, she wants to help Sam, and because the institute is one of the best there is funding available for patients with extreme financial need."

"What are you saying?" Dean couldn't believe what he thought he was hearing. "Sam was accepted… even with his diagnosis? And, the center is taking him on without payment?"

"Yes and yes, remember I told you my aunt sees potential where most doctors wouldn't. And, the sad thing is, if Sam were to get shipped off to a place like Meadowbrook, unfortunately he would probably meet the doctors expectations because he would be getting no therapy at all, and would regress. Sam has potential Dean, and I want to see him get the chance." Before April knew what was happening Dean had grabbed her and pulled her against his chest hugging her.

"I can't thank you enough. April…" She returned the heart felt hug gladly.

"It's okay, Dean." She assured. "My aunt is making arrangements for Sam's arrival on Friday. And, I can tell you all about the center when you want to hear it. I do PT there also on the weekends for a couple hours, but also in speech, as opposed to here at the hospital I only do PT."

"So, you'll still be working with Sam?"

"In some capacity, I will. He'll have his own personal PT assigned to him at the center. And, he'll have day, evening, and night caregivers assigned to him. It will be the same caregivers on any given shift. My aunt likes to instill a continuity of care. They have a massive staff there, so that no one gets burned out. Each caregiver is assigned three patients per shift. And, because not all patients require the same level of care it always seems to work out. I arranged for a tour, if you'd like to see it before Friday."

"Yeah, when?"

"We could today," she suggested. "I know you hate leaving him, but maybe it'll be good for you, you know? After all, Ivy Ridge is a residential center, and although, they won't kick you out," she smiled. "They encourage family to allow the patients some space, so to speak."

"Yeah, I know you're right. All right," he looked at his watch. "Let me talk to Karen his nurse for the evening shift. I want to make sure she has my cell number should they have to reach me."

"Okay. I'll stay with Sam. We can take my car," she suggested.

"Thanks for everything April." She smiled and Dean's felt warmth settle into his chest. It was warmth that stemmed not only from her, but that he saw possibility for Sammy. He walked out of the room.

"Well, Sam," April spoke happily. "We're going to get you out of this hospital Friday, okay?" She patted his leg. He remained asleep. "I think you'll really like the center. And, I haven't seen that brother of yours look that happy since I met him. Boy, I wish I could get the goods from you on him. I bet he's a real lady killer, huh? He did me in the first moment we met," she giggled quietly, and gave Sam a soft squeeze on his right foot.

Dean walked back in, "I told her I was going out for and that I'd be back later. So, if they need me for anything she'll call. Cell reception is okay out there isn't it?"

"Yep, no problems," April assured.

Dean walked over to Sam before leaving and gently pushed back his unruly bangs. "Hey kiddo, I'm going to go check out your new digs, okay? I'll be back tonight, I promise. It's gonna be okay, Sammy," Dean spoke gently. "Okay, let's go."

Dean walked with April to the employee parking lot where her car was parked. He briefly thought of his current relationship status with is dad, and had to admit it was a tumultuous storm letting loose. Hurricane Winchester was blowing in, and Dean knew it. But, he decided wasn't going to think about his father right now. No, right now he was blocking John Winchester out of his mind. He was sure they'd talk again, but there wasn't much more to say. If John couldn't believe that Sammy had potential, no matter what that may mean when all was said and done, then Dean had no use for him, father or not. And, for the first time in almost three months he finally felt some of the weight in his chest lift, he had always believed in Sam, but now he had hope, real hope.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, how was that? I tried to speed it up a little for you. I had a ton of reviews for chapter 5, and they were all appreciated. So, let me know what you thought of chapter six. You know the routine by now: like it, hate it, bored stiff, etc., let me know.**

**READ and REVIEW! Thank you in advance.**


	7. Drifting

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one.

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thank you for the reviews and comments, as they have been plentiful. I hope that you continue to review as you read. I embrace constructive comments and observations. And, reviews are the only way I know how I'm doing.

Thanks in advance for sticking with the story.

READ and REVIEW!

**Chapter Seven**

**Drifting**

By Dawn Nyberg

" '_cause you have been drifting for so long. I know you don't want to come down, but somewhere below you there's people who love you, and they're waiting for you to come home, please come home …"_ Lyrics excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _Drifting_

Dean studied the grounds of the Center as they pulled down the long driveway. The driveway was lined by manicured tress and scrubs, and had long rolling green grasses, and concrete walking paths that Dean noted were wide enough to accommodate two wheelchairs side by side if need be. "The grounds are nice," Dean commented idly.

"They focus on the human side of care here," April began. "They try to make it comfortable for the patients. There's the Center." Dean turned his eyes away from the passenger side window. He was surprised, it didn't look like a hospital at all, and there wasn't a sterile look to it. It was a long sprawling structure that had a large glass atrium at the center of the building, and looked inviting, well, as inviting as a care center could, Dean surmised. There was more landscaping and colorful plants that adorned the lobby area, and spanned the front of the center.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

Dean followed April through the center, "This is the therapy gymnasium," she pointed to the empty room that spanned a large area. There were mats, and equipment. "It's evening, so that's why there isn't any PT going on."

"Yeah," Dean commented as he looked over the equipment finding himself looking at every detail. Were the floors clean? The equipment new? He ran through mental questions in his head as he looked around to answer his mental questions. "What about hydrotherapy?"

"Through here," April pointed and Dean followed. She pushed the door and it opened into a vast area that contained a large indoor swimming pool. "The separate hydrotherapy tubs are this way," she commented. "This is for basic water therapy." Dean walked with her and examined the hydrotherapy room with the hot jetted tubs that helped Sam's muscle spasms at the hospital.

"So, Sam will still have this, right?"

"Yes, and regular pool therapy as well."

"What will they do for him here?" Dean asked. "I mean, I know you said he needed speech therapy and other stuff."

"He'll get it all here Dean. I promise you this is the best place for Sam to achieve his full potential in his recovery. My aunt has made sure that the programs here focus on Core Therapies."

"Core therapies? What are those?" Dean wanted to know everything.

"Well," April began. "It's a large set of rehab steps that each patient gets as they are ready for a step. The core therapies are: nursing, physical, speech, occupational, therapeutic recreation, neuropsychology, and social work." She saw Dean's eyebrow lift at the words social work. "Now, I don't mean you're going to have to deal with a social worker in your face," she smiled. "It's sort of an advocate for Sam and for your behalf should you need to apply for government funds after he is released from the center. They can find financial assistance to help should he need it." Dean nodded.

"Sammy will get all of those therapies?"

"Yes, as he can handle them. Once he starts engaging his environment there are things his PT will be able to do to stimulate him further, and try to draw him further into his environment."

"I know I all ready said thanks, April, but this is more than I could have hoped for."

"Not a problem. Don't you want to see his room?"

"What? Its' ready?"

"Well, this place is usually full, but the patient that had Sam's room was discharged yesterday, and I'm sure it's ready. I think you'll be pleased. They really try to make the rooms homey. My aunt hates decorating ala hospital décor."

"How many patients does Sam have to share his room with?"

"None," April answered bluntly. Dean looked at her with surprise.

"My aunt believes residents should have their own space, so everyone has their own private room, no sharing."

"How many residents are here?"

"Well, there's usually more traumatic brain injuries here than spinal trauma, but there are 110 patient rooms here. But, some patients are here for only a couple weeks depending on the rehab required, and some are long term residents that will have extensive rehab. I got lucky with Sam getting in because of the vacancy, and his case put him at the top of the list."

"What if there hadn't been space?"

"My aunt would have admitted him as soon as there was an opening. Worse case scenario I would have helped you find an interim facility that could have cared for him until a room opened. And, if they hadn't provided regular PT, I would have gladly donated my time."

"Thanks."

"Stop thanking me. And, anyway we don't have to think about that scenario it's not happening. Sam has a place here, and as of Friday Ivy Ridge will be home sweet home until he's ready to leave."

"This is his room?" Dean looked around surprised. He was hoping that the rooms would be a change from the hospital and they were.

"You don't like it?" April sounded concerned.

"Huh? Are you kidding its great," Dean walked around. The room wasn't huge, but it was still roomy, and it had a private full bathroom that was handicapped accessible. There was a bay window with a small sitting area. A TV mounted from the ceiling, and the bed although it had all the elements of a hospital bed the call buttons, and up and down motorized controls, and bed rails that could raise or lower, it looked like a real bed. There were soft pale green sheets on the bed, a pillow, and a soft colorful quilt expertly placed on top with a corner neatly folded down. It looked very inviting and safe. Dean glanced up to the ceiling, "a ceiling fan?"

April smiled. "Well, the A/C is more than enough, but they find that constant air flow is comforting and helps increase a patient's comfort. The fans are cleaned of dust every couple days and actually cleaned with disinfectant, so you don't have to worry about it as a health hazard. "So, you like it, huh?"

"It's great April. I couldn't have ever dreamed this place up for Sam's recovery."

"Good. I think Sam will make real progress here," she assured. "My aunt usually stays late on Wednesday nights, and I told her we were coming, so I want you to meet her, and there is some paperwork to fill out." Dean nodded. "And, as soon as the paperwork is filled out and signed, she will fax the transfer paperwork to Sam's doctor and that will be that, he'll come here on Friday."

**Meanwhile, Sam's Hospital Room**

John sat down at Sam's bedside; his son's eyes were closed in sleep. "Hey, Sammy," John's voice was soft. "I was hoping your brother would take a breather, so I could talk to you alone." John looked down at his hands trying to find the right words. When he looked back up Sam's eyes had opened and resumed their vacant, blank stare at nothing. John still had trouble dealing with that, but he just reminded himself that those were his baby son's eyes, and the idea he was seeing them at all was a gift.

"Hey, buddy," John practically cooed. He tried to put himself in Sam's line of sight, to make him see him, but it was like his son saw through him. "Sammy, I wish I knew what to say. I didn't want to put you in Meadowbrook, but it's the best thing for you, or at least I thought. I just knew your brother and I couldn't care for you like you needed. Please, don't think I wanted to throw you away," his voice pleaded on deaf ears. He was certain Sam wasn't hearing him, but he had to hope there was some place that still survived inside his son's head that could understand, even on the simplest level. "I shouldn't have been surprised that you listed your brother on your paperwork. I mean, he's been a part of your life every day practically for the last year." He paused. "It's not that I think your brother won't find a place for you I think he will, it's just … dammit, Sammy," John's voice was frustrated. "I know you wouldn't want Dean to spend his life looking out for you every day. I love you, son," he looked anywhere in the room, but at his son. "but, he just can't let you go, and I guess I shouldn't fault him for it, but I can't help wishing he'd see what all the doctors are saying, and know it's true. Sam I know you tried son to come back, I know you did. But, the doctor's made me see that you've done all you're going to do. I don't want to let you go either, but I know it's what you'd want for your brother and me."

And, long minutes later, there was a noise at the entrance to Sam's room that made John turn his head. "Sorry, I just needed to check his fluids, and turn him." Sam's evening nurse entered.

"It's okay." He watched her begin to turn Sam. "Need any help?" She paused looking at John.

"Sure." And, she proceeded to talk him through the procedure of turning Sam onto his side, and placing the pillow between his legs, so that it would reduce pressure point irritations from his legs laying on one another. "You did just fine," she encouraged. He offered her a mild smile and sat back down in his seat. Before she left she turned back around. "Mr. Winchester," she began. John met her eyes. "We received his transfer paperwork a short while ago and Sam's doctor is preparing the orders for Friday."

"Transfer?" John hoped that Dean had come to his senses about Meadowbrook. "Where?"

"Actually," her voice holding a hint of surprise. "Ivy Ridge Rehab Care Center, it's one of the best in the country. The paperwork was personally submitted by the Director of the center Dr. Rose Myers, and she is a top neurologist, and has signed off on the paperwork as your son's attending physician which means she's accepted his case personally."

"Rehab center, are you sure? I thought my son didn't qualify."

"Well, technically he doesn't, but Dr. Myers runs the facility and she was given access to your son's scans, records and PT care notes. And, she is known for being a bit more liberal in her evaluations of traumatic brain injury, so..."

"One of the best in the country, you say?"

"Yes. Well, if you have any questions you can speak with Sam's doctor. I mean, I've been told about the switch in power of attorney, but you're still allowed to be informed."

"Thank you." John turned his attention back to Sam that had closed his eyes once again, and smiled. "Well, Sammy it looks like your brother pulled a rabbit out of a hat on this one. He got you into a rehab. I just hope that when they decide they can't help you progress any further that it doesn't destroy your brother."

"Get out," Dean's voice grounded out in a hushed venom. John spun around. His eldest child had been very quiet in his approach. "Don't say things like to him."

"I'm not leaving until I'm ready."

"How long have you been sittin' here fillin' his head with this crap?" Dean maintained his hushed voice.

"You're setting yourself up for a big fall Dean, and for your brother to fail. And, when all is said and done you'll have no one else to blame, but yourself."

"I'm not setting Sammy up to fail, no that's what you were doing with that hole called Meadowbrook. Sam has a chance now, and I'm giving it to him. Just get out."

"He's not going to get better Dean, Christ why can't you see that." Dean would have exploded on his father, but he wouldn't in front of his little brother.

"You keep your voice down," he warned. John cast a look at his sleeping son, and lowered his voice for Sammy's sake, not because Dean ordered him to. "And, where do you get off, anyway? You're bailing out just like you always do. I'm not asking you to give up shit for Sammy. This is my life, and my brother, you want to write him off then fine … I said it before and I'll say it again … we don't need you. We do fine on our own."

"You know in a month or two when they come to the same decision about Sam that the hospital did, what are you going to do then, huh? You'll have to find another place for him when they make him leave."

"You don't have a clue about anything," Dean warned. "They believe in Sam, even after you and all these damn quacks have written him off."

"If and it's a big if, but let's say they do advance him just a fraction more, he'll never have a meaningful recovery Dean, and you're going to have to let him go."

"Screw you, you lousy bastard," he hissed under his breath. "You know even if the only advance Sam makes is to focus his eyes on something, anything or to be able to turn himself in his own bed then it's better than what you wanted for him in that crap facility."

"You're wasting your life," John yelled now. "He's gone Dean!"

Dean eyes shifted back to Sam and could see that his brother had opened his eyes once again. "It's okay, Sammy," he comforted as he ran a hand through his brother's bangs. "Dad, didn't mean to raise his voice."

"You see that's what I'm talking about. You coddle and comfort him Dean, and he doesn't even know your there. The doctors know he can hear, but they say he can't even cognitively process the words, so essentially we're just like white noise to him. You're not comforting him because Sammy isn't there to comfort." John paused and then a sentence left his mouth that even he couldn't believe he was saying, but deep down based on the medical staff prognosis for his baby son, he believed was true. "It would have been better if Sam had died. At least it would be over for him, for us." He heard a deep guttural growl growing in intensity from Dean, and then the boy exploded.

He launched himself at his father and slammed him against the far wall in Sam's room. "I'll kill you," he spat, as he proceeded to grab his father's throat. John struggled with his son, and managed to break from Dean's grip.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" John panted knowing his mistake. "It's just…"

"Get out before I kill you Dad." Dean's eyes blazed with fury. "I never want to see you again. Am I clear?"

"Dean, Sam is my son and if I want to see him I will." John kept his distance from Dean not wanting security to show up and haul either one of them out of the room and call the police.

"If you believe what you've been saying to me about Sam all ready being gone then walk away Dad, you've got nothing to visit because according to you Sammy is dead."

"Dean…" John's voice was soft. He watched his firstborn walk toward Sam.

"I'll be back in a minute Sammy." John watched Dean walk out to the nurse's station. "I want to remove my father from Sam's approved visitors."

"But…" the nurse started to say.

"Look, I have power of attorney over my brother's care and it's my decision to allow visitors in his room, and I want him removed. I don't care if you have to post security at my brother's room."

"He can't do this can he?" John asked quickly.

"I'm sorry Mr. Winchester, but he can."

"I'm his father. I have rights."

"Yes, but unfortunately, if your son here is choosing to invoke visitation limitations he can." She looked at Dean. "Are you choosing to limit information access, as well?" Dean contemplated that for a moment.

"No, I don't care if he's given status reports, but I want him away from my brother." John decided he'd have to bite his tongue in this one and actually ask Dean to reconsider.

"Dean," he purposely softened his voice. His son turned hard eyes to his father.

"What? I've said all I plan to … to you."

"Can I have one minute in private with you," he hesitated a moment. "Please," he hated sounding like he was begging.

"Fine," Dean glared at him. "I'll be back in a minute," he said to the nurse. She nodded. Dean went to their familiar corner off the busy hallway, the place they had had their last confrontation when he had punched his Dad. "What is it? You have one minute." He spat.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I was wrong. I'd rather have Sammy anyway he came rather than no Sam at all," John offered. "And, it's clear you and I both think differently about Sam's condition. I can respect that," he offered. "Look, he's going to be headed to that rehab you found for him on Friday, and I'd like to have what time there is left to visit with him. Please, don't take that away from me Dean." He paused a moment. "Don't take it away from Sammy. If he can hear and understand like you think he can then let me have these last couple days with him. It's really just another day, I mean … todays over anyway. Let me … for Sammy…" Dean stood there processing what his father had said. He wasn't stupid he knew his Dad was working an angle. He wanted to see Sam, and he was using Sam to get what he wanted.

"Look, just so we're clear, I know I'm being played. But, because as much as you don't deserve him, I think Sammy would want you here. But, I'm not kidding, you say one more negative thing in front of him, I will have your ass hauled out by security if you don't leave when I tell you to. Understand?" John gave his son a curt nod. "And, I don't want you coming to the rehab center to see him."

"I won't," John's answer was fast and blunt. And, Dean couldn't mask his surprise. "I may call on occasion to see how your brother is doing, but I won't visit. I can't stand to see him put in a place like that, and fail."

"But, you'd rather see him regress to a drawn up shell of himself locked in some fetal position like that Kyle kid they discharged the other day to an institution? Because he'd get worse, you know that right? No PT, no stimulus. Sam isn't like that Kyle kid, and I won't let him become like that, I can't."

"Dean, son … have you considered that this may be beyond your ability to help Sammy?"

"I'm not giving up on him. I won't." And, that was that. John Winchester heard the finality in his son's voice. His oldest child wasn't ever going to leave his little brother, his Sammy behind, not now, not ever. And, he blamed himself for instilling such protectiveness in Dean where Sam was concerned, but what was done was done.

"Fine," John relented. "I'd like to see your brother before I leave for the evening."

"All right," Dean's voice was frustrated.

"And, tomorrow, too?" John asked.

"Yeah, whatever, but remember what I said, no talking shit in front of Sammy."

"I won't. You'll talk to the nurse's desk?"

"Yeah."

**Thursday Evening, the night before Sam's Transfer to Ivy Ridge**

John sat by his son's bed while Dean kept off to the side watching and listening to everything is father said and did to Sam. They hadn't spoken much since the previous night's argument and subsequent stalemate. Dean watched his father hold his brother's hand and stroke his bangs repeatedly away from his forehead. "Sammy, tomorrow's your big day," John spoke softly, but Dean found himself leaning forward to hear every word to insure he said nothing negative. John made a point to ignore Dean's obvious attempt to hear his words. "You finally get to leave the hospital. I hear your brother has found you a real nice place to stay. I looked it up on the Net, and it looks nice Sammy. You'll like it there. Listen, Sammy," John began as he looked at the door to make sure no one was coming in to check Sam's vitals or fluid levels. "Your old Dad here has a hunt to go on. It's nothing too out of the ordinary. It's just clearing out a poltergeist in Massachusetts. I got a call from Leonard, you probably won't remember him, you only met him once and I think you must have been fifteen or sixteen, but anyway…" He paused as he saw Sam open his eyes and resume their vacant stare that he still couldn't get used to. "Well, he called and asked if I could help a family out, so I agreed. I'll head out in the morning, but that works out since you're going to your new digs tomorrow, right?" John reached up and cupped the side of his son's face in his broad hand. "Sammy, you're brother is gonna take real good care of you, okay? But, you know me, I gotta keep moving. I'll be checking in, I promise, maybe not right away, but I will. I talked to your new doctor earlier, she sounds very nice. And, it sounds like she knows her stuff. You'll be in good hands."

"You called the rehab?" Dean's voice held a hint of accusation.

"I just wanted to talk to the doctor that took your brother's case. I looked her up, she's good. And, I asked her if it would be okay that I called for updates now and again."

"And, what did she say?"

"That you'd have to give her permission since your essentially Sam's guardian now because of the power of attorney." John studied his son's intense look. "Dean, I just want to be able to get updates about Sammy that's all I'm asking. And, it may be a while before I call, anyway."

"Fine," Dean groused. "I'll make sure you're on the approved list for information." John stood up and leaned over Sam's bed and smiled at his son.

"Well, Sammy, it's late, and I guess your Dad here, should head off back to the hotel. I plan on leaving before sunrise. I'll be in touch, I'm not sure when, but I will. Love you, Sammy," he whispered and kissed his son on the top of the head, and gently rubbed his thumb across Sam's forehead. "Dean?" John stood up and looked at his eldest child.

"Yeah?" Dean's voice was impatient. John looked at Sam and motioned for Dean to step outside the room.

"You have my number. I promise I'll answer if I hear it ringing, okay? And, if you get my voice mail, please leave a message. I will call back. It's just, if anything should happen, I mean…"

"So, what you're saying is … that if Sammy gets worse, dies or gets booted from the rehab you want a call? How about when he improves?" Dean wanted to hit his father.

"Dean," John tried to quell his anger. "I just want you to know that if something were to happen, anything, I want to know."

"Yeah, I got it." Dean glared at him.

"And, if you need me," John offered. Dean cut him off with a raised hand.

"I won't," he ground out. "I got all I need in the world, and he's in that room." John shook his head.

"Well, the offer still stands."

"Whatever."

"Take care of yourself Dean, and your brother."

"I always have." John nodded. It was the truth, after all.

"Goodbye Dean."

"Dad," there was no goodbye, just simply 'dad' and a quick nod. The older man could feel the rage coming off his son. He only hoped that he and Dean could find there way back to one another. And, he hoped that Dean would someday sooner than later admit that Sammy was gone, and return to the hunt at his father's side. John turned and walked away.

Dean returned to his brother's room. "Hey, Sammy. It's just you and me little brother against the world now," Dean quipped with a smile. He ran a hand through his brother's chestnut mop of hair. "Just the way we like it, huh? You know I cleared my stuff out of dad's hotel room yesterday, so I'm your roomie for the night. And tomorrow, we finally get to blow this Popsicle stand." He paused for a moment. "Hey, you need turned don't you kiddo? It's almost about time." Dean smiled and went about turning his brother and making him comfortable.

Tomorrow, couldn't get here fast enough for Dean Winchester, he really felt true hope for Sammy when he thought about Ivy Ridge and what they can and will do for him. _I'm getting you out of the dark Sammy, I promise_, Dean thought to himself.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, I know this chapter may have seemed a bit slow or not, but I have to provide some story and not all wham bam thank you ma'am. But, now the boys are off to Ivy Ridge.**

**Please, don't forget to review! I really do read them all, and they help to motivate and inform me. Thanks in advance for reviews, comments, and sticking with the story. Let me know what you think. **


	8. Both Sides Now

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Sorry, this chapter was a little delayed, but it couldn't be helped. I had an unexpected life delay.

Thank you for all of the reviews and comments I received so far over the other chapters. Please, continue to leave your thoughts. Read and Review!

**Chapter Eight**

**Both Sides Now**

By Dawn Nyberg

_So many things I would have done, but clouds got in the way … I've looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down … I've looked at love from both sides now, from give and take … I've looked at life from both sides now, from win and lose, and still somehow … It's life's illusions I recall … Something's lost, but something's gained in living every day …_ Lyric excerpt by Joni Mitchell, _Both Sides Now_

**Three Weeks Later, Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

"Hi Dean," Carrie the bubbly receptionist from the front lobby visitor's check-in desk motioned to Dean as he walked into the center.

"Hi Carrie," he could see she was holding a priority mail envelope.

"Something came to the center for you. It arrived earlier."

"For me," he eyed it suspiciously.

"Well, it's in your name, but your brother's name is on it too, I suspect to make sure it was accepted."

"Thanks Carrie," Dean replied as he took the hard envelope.

"You're welcome."

Dean stopped halfway to his brother's room and stepped off to a small sitting area to open the envelope. It had no return address, but he recognized the handwriting, and knew it was from his father. He let out a loud sigh as he opened it. There was one part of him that wanted to throw it away without looking, but for John Winchester to spring for priority mail, maybe it was worth a look. He hadn't heard from his father since they parted ways in the hospital. And, Sam had been in Ivy Ridge for three weeks all ready, and Dean was making long term plans to stay, so he knew the extended stay hotel wasn't going to work much longer. He opened the envelope, and pulled out a short scribbled letter with another smaller brown envelope with a closed metal clasp securing whatever contents it held. He read the letter:

_Dean,_

_I'm sorry with the way I left things, but done is done, I suspect. I know things are going to be difficult on your end with money and lodging. I know you're going to probably have to get work, and anyway, I wanted to tell you I spoke with Larry at the garage before I left town, and told him you may or may not stop by, but anyway there is a job there for you should you need one. He said to come by if you want. Look, I called in some favors and some contacts, and anyway, I thought things would be easier for you if you didn't have to hide under fake ID's. You can be Dean Winchester again. I know you've been using your real name at the rehab, but I thought this may come in handy. I pulled some strings, and used up about a half dozen owed favors, but anyway, long story short, it wasn't Dean Winchester that died in St. Louis suspected of murder, but his twin brother, Sean. I won't go into the details because it's not important, but you're you again. Inside the envelope is the police paperwork, your birth certificate, a new copy of your social security card just in case you need it, and also Sammy's birth certificate should you need it for anything. And, I had a friend that doctored and even filed a fake birth certificate for your "brother Sean", so there shouldn't be any questions. You're free to be Dean Winchester again. And, I spoke with Bobby and he told me he was able to tow the Impala to you on a flat bed. He said it was fixed, and I'm glad you have one less thing to worry about. Tell Sammy I said Hi._

_Take care._

_Dad_

Dean stared at the letter for a long moment and then opened up the other envelope, and all the paperwork his dad had listed was enclosed, and he was happy that in deed he was no longer a presumed dead fugitive. He could start using his real ID again when he needed to without worry of being hauled off to jail. And, also in with the papers was money held together with a paper clip and a post-it note that said, _it isn't as much as I would have liked, but I thought it could help_. It was $400 in cash. Dean idly glanced at the fake birth certificate of his fake twin: Sean Michael Winchester born January 24, 1979 at 8:06 AM, Lawrence, Kansas. And, then he glanced at his own birth certificate: Dean Aaron Winchester born January 24, 1979 at 8:10 AM, Lawrence, Kansas. He shook his head with a mixture of wry humor and irritation, _figures he'd make me younger_, he grumbled in his own mind. However, it didn't escape Dean's attention that his fake brother's first name was a combination of Sam's and his own.

He put the money in his wallet, and folded up the papers back into the envelope and headed for Sam's room. He glanced at his watch and knew that Sam's personal PT would be in his room. He liked the older man. His name was Melvin Dupree; he was a tall African American man in his mid forties with a quick wit and gentle smile. He had been quick to introduce himself to Dean and Sam, and had quickly told Dean to call him Mel.

"Hey Mel," Dean said with a smile as he entered the room.

"Hey yourself," the man answered as he continued Sam's PT. "We're doing our morning yoga," he quipped. Dean chuckled. "I'm just about done. I would have taken Sam to the gym for his leg exercises, but they are cleaning the floors right now." Dean nodded. Mel placed Sam's leg back down, and pulled the covers back over him, and proceeded to write his care notes at Sam's bedside in his PT file. Dean put the envelope down on a small corner table near the bay window, and turned to look at Sam, but something caught his attention. He studied his little brother for a moment. Sam's eyes were fixed on the ceiling fan as it spun its circular revolutions. And, Dean was certain that Sam was actually looking at it.

"Ah, Mel," his voice sounding hesitant, as if speaking too loud or actually saying what he thought he was seeing would make it disappear.

"Yep," he said looking up at Dean as he stopped writing.

"Do you see what I'm seeing?" And, Mel followed Dean's eyes.

"Well, I'll be damned," he replied. "Let me check something." He proceeded to go turn off the switch to the fan, and when it wasn't stopping fast enough for the older man he reached a hand up to still the rotating blades. And both Mel and Dean watched in rapped awe as Sam's eyes drifted away from the fan to stare off at the distant wall. Mel walked back over to the switch and started the fan up again, and they watched Sam's eyes engage the fan's movement once again, and watch it spin.

"What's that mean?" Dean's voice hitched in excitement. "I mean, he's seeing the fan, right? He's watching it." Mel smiled and nodded.

"He's beginning to notice his environment. The motion is stimulating him visually. Hey, I have an idea," Mel suggested. "Let me go grab something I'll be right back." Dean nodded and went to Sam's bedside.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean's voice was jovial. He tried to get Sam to look at him, to see him, but he only seemed to want to watch the fan rotate. "Hey," Dean quipped as he ran a hand through his brother's unruly bangs. "Man, now why weren't you that easy to entertain as a kid?" He tried to make a joke. Part of him was ecstatic that his brother had made an obvious improvement that the hospital had claimed he wouldn't, and then part of him was still sad by the simple fact his little brother was intrigued with a ceiling fan. "I'm proud of you Sammy," Dean comforted as Sam continued to watch the fan.

"Okay," Mel said as he walked back into the room with a small item that resembled a small desk fan, but wasn't a fan when Dean took a closer look. "Let's see what he thinks of this."

"What is it?"

"A light pattern stimulator."

"Huh?"

"Here, first let's get him turned, okay," Mel suggested. "It's time anyway." Once they had Sam comfortably on his side Mel brought the rolling bedside table over to the side Sam was looking at the wall. He turned on the small device and a light board came to life with colorful, alternating light patterns that created various different moving light patterns. Sam's eyes drifted toward the moving lights and his eyes were captivated by the light, color, and movement. "This will activate more parts of his brain than the ceiling fan will. This is additional therapy of sorts, okay?"

"How long can he watch?"

"How about we let him do this for an hour, okay? But, he may tire of it before then and look away," Mel suggested. "I can set a timer, and when it stops, it'll be time to turn him again, and he'll probably sleep. This may not seem like a lot Dean," Mel began. "But this is a big step on Sam's part."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "I knew he had it in him."

Dean settled down in the chair next to Sam's bed after Mel left. He would have water therapy a little later in the day. "Hey Sammy," Dean began. "I might have to cut my visit a little short today because I have an appointment to look at a studio apartment about eight minutes from here, and then I'm driving into town to look into a job at an auto garage. I think we're going to be here for a while, and I think your big brother here is actually going to have to earn an honest living and work." Dean chuckled lightly. "I mean, really Sammy that alone is worth getting better for … seeing me do something close to a 9 to 5, or whatever I end up working. I think this Larry guy will be flexible since he knows our situation." Dean paused a moment and then stood up. He gently ran a hand over his brother's face, "it's a good thing you take forever to grow a beard Sammy. I've only had to shave your peach fuzz once since you've been here."

Dean stayed with Sam until it was time for his water therapy. He was scheduled for both pool and hydrotherapy today. And, Mel would come back for another hour of PT later in the day before they gave Sam a bath and washed his hair. Dean had told the staff he would shave his own brother's face as needed, and they had obliged.

**Meanwhile, Jefferson City Auto Repair**

"Your Dad told me you may be stopping by," Larry smiled and offered his hand. "He also told me you're an excellent body repair man, and can rebuild a transmission as good as he can, that true?"

"Yes, sir," Dean answered honestly. "My dad always made sure we knew our way around a car."

"Call me Larry," the man insisted. "Yeah, your dad told me he co-owned a shop when you and your brother were little."

"Yes, until our mother died, and then he left the shop," Dean didn't offer any more information. Larry's face was solemn.

"Yeah, your dad mentioned something about that … look I know your situation with your brother, younger right?"

"Yeah, I'm four years older."

"I can pay you under the table or official if you like. That is if you want the job. I know you need some flexibility, so there's no problem there."

"Thanks I'd love a job. I looked at a studio apartment in Elston where my brother's rehab is, and gave them a deposit on a furnished one, and a job is just what I need." Dean was had been happy to find out that all utilities were included with the rent except phone, and he had his cell for that.

"Elston, huh? Nice little city," Larry commented. "Quiet. So, your brother's at that fancy rehab center, eh?"

"They're one of the best." Dean commented. "And the rent in Elston is pretty cheap."

Larry nodded. "So, you want under the table or on the payroll Dean?"

"Put me on the payroll Larry. I figure the tax refund might come in handy at the beginning of next year."

"Oh, before I forget, your dad was pretty sure you'd show up, so he wanted me to hold on to his last pay for you. He asked that I hold it back and said you'd probably need it." Larry handed Dean an envelope. "He did a couple rebuilds, and some body work before he left the city."

"Thanks." Dean didn't open the envelope. "What kind of schedule do you need me to work?"

"Can you do Monday through Thursday 8:00 to 4:00? I figure that will leave your evenings free to be with your brother, and you can have Friday through Sunday off to be with him or take care of other business."

"That'd be great Larry, thanks. When do you want me to start?"

"Well, its' Wednesday all ready, how about you start next Monday?"

"Sounds good." Dean filled out some employee paperwork for Larry and gave him his address and cell number. Dean actually felt a bit of relief to be writing down an actual address for a change. He had a place to live and once Sammy was back with him, it would be a home. Of course, he knew he'd need a bigger place before Sam could ever come to live with him. He wrote down: 1020 Sparrow Drive, Apt. 10 B. Elston, Missouri.

**Week Four, Ivy Ridge Rehab**

Dean had fallen into a regular routine of work and visit Sam. It was Friday and he had the whole day to see Sam or do whatever he needed to do. The $1200 dollars that ended up being in that envelope Larry had given him paid up his rent for three months. His first week at the shop had been busy, but good.

"Sammy," Dean began as he fixed Sam's blanket and sheet. "Mel should be here in a while. Today, he's taking you to the gym to work your muscles out on the mats." Dean went about fixing corners and talking about whatever came to his mind. He hadn't noticed two very curious eyes watching his every move. Dean glanced down at Sam for a second, and nearly gasped. Sam was looking at him, and his eyes moved as they tracked Dean's movements. "Sammy?" Dean smiled at him. Sam continued to study him with wide and curious eyes. "Hey there, little brother." Mel walked in and saw the obvious interaction.

"How long?" Mel's deep voice came from beside Sam's bed.

"Just now," Dean answered excitedly. "Sammy, this is Mel." Dean thought his chest would explode when Sam turned his head, albeit in a jerky, uncoordinated way, but he moved and looked at Mel. Sam made a small noise inside his throat, but he didn't speak. Dean felt hot tears sting his eyes, but didn't fall.

"Well, well, little man, look at you," Mel replied with a smile. Dean was smiling so wide that his jaw hurt. Suddenly, Sam raised an uncoordinated hand toward his face and in a half hazard way rubbed an itch on his nose.

"He just … did you see?" Dean's mind was processing so many thoughts at once he couldn't form a complete thought.

"Yes," Mel confirmed. "Had an itch, huh, buddy? And, because he made a vocal noise they can start him on speech therapy now, too." Sam's eyes were clear and focused on both men. They held the look of curiosity that Dean remembered from Sam's early years when he would toddle around motel rooms exploring everything and it all had a sense of wonder to the kid. Dean smiled at a quick memory of how much Sam loved the feel and look of shag carpet when he was three.

**Two Months Later**

Sam had made major moves in the last month. His rehab with Mel was going much better. He would actually push back against Mel when he asked Sam to, and he could follow commands. Mel had explained that Sam was suffering from a form of paraparesis, and the word had seemed daunting to Dean until the man had explained it simply to him. It just meant that Sam was suffering from weakness in his lower limbs. However, after a month he was learning to stand again, and bear weight on his legs, but he hadn't been able to walk yet, however, Mel had assured that he would once his brain and legs were on civil terms once again. The man's humor was always a bright spot. Sam no longer required IV nutrition, and Dr. Myers had had the TPN IV removed. He couldn't feed himself yet, but allowed himself to be fed. Dean's mind recounted details of his brother's rehab as he worked on a transmission of a Ford F-150. He glanced at his watch and knew that April would be doing Sam's speech therapy right about now. He shook his head lightly as he considered how maybe under different circumstances he and April would all ready be an item or at the least casual lovers by now, but he had decided he needed to focus his priorities on his brother and working this job.

Although, April had persuaded him once or twice to grab a movie and some food to just _decompress_ as she liked to put it, but somehow he always returned back to his apartment and felt guilty that his brother was where he was and missing out on life, or at least the life he had before everything went to shit six months ago when he collapsed. April had been understanding, and never pressed the issue of seeing each other, and she seemed to accept that despite the mutual attraction they both had; now, it was simply just bad timing on both their parts. Dean slid under the truck to finish the job.

**Meanwhile, at Ivy Ridge**

"Almost Sam," April encouraged. "What is this?" She held up a picture card and this one was from the food deck. "Try again."

"B..B," Sam struggled with his letters. The sound stuttered in his mouth. His frustration was evident in his creased brow. "Nana." April smiled.

"You're almost there," she urged. "Now, try it all together." Sam looked at her determined and took a long steady breath.

"Banana," it came out quietly and was tentative, but it was the word. "No more. Done." Sam had acquired a good deal of his conversational speech, albeit broken at times, but it was when it came to certain vocabulary words that he had trouble. When he had first begun his speaking efforts he had a severe to profound paraphasic speech problem. April thought back to when she had to tell Dean that this problem of substituting wrong words in place of the intended word could be permanent the older brother had simply said _Sammy is like a dictionary, or at least he was before, well, you know, and he will be again. Just be patient with him_. She remembered Dean's absolute faith in his younger brother, and it made her smile. It hadn't been easy when Sam first started; he would look at a picture of a chair and say bed, or look at a tree and say something like free. But, one day it was clear the problem was abating, and he was simply left with reacquiring proficient speech.

"Sam can you read this sentence I wrote on this card? And answer it for me?"

She could see his mind working and she knew it may be too soon, but she had to try. She wanted to engage more of his cognitive brain. He frowned at the card. "No read. Don't want."

"Sam you remember our deal don't you? No more broken sentences," April prompted. "If you can't read this then tell me you can't or if you don't want to try right now then tell me that." He let out a loud sigh, and his hand fisted into the blanket of his bed.

"I no want read." He struggled with those words. April knew that the grammatical errors would recede with more therapy, but she was happy that he had made an attempt at better expression.

"Sam?" April liked to quiz him on memories to see what he remembered and what he didn't. The only thing Dean had wanted to know to be sure of is that his little brother did remember him, and April had assured him he did. Sam looked at her with expectant eyes. "Sam, do you have a family?" He nodded. "How many not counting you?"

He picked up a jerky hand as his motor skills still had trouble. He indicated the answer with two fingers. "Say how many."

"T..T..Two," he breathed out through a hesitant stutter.

"Good."

"Ap…" Sam struggled with her name. He had never engaged in speaking first and it surprised her. She had talked to Dean the other day when he had expressed he was worried that Sam never really tried to speak to him, but gave short answers. And, one thing that bothered Dean more than anything, April knew, was that Sam had never said his name since coming out of the coma fully. And, she knew that the older brother was desperate to hear his little brother say his name, if just to confirm to him that his brother was truly here.

"Yes, Sam?" He shook his head slightly and she knew she wasn't going to get anything out of him. "You sure? I'm listening." He nodded. Mel walked into the room.

"Hey Sam! You talkin' April's ear off today?" He looked from Sam to April.

"Well, you know him," she commented with a wry smile. "He's the proverbial silent one."

"Now, Sam, my man," Mel chided in a good humored way. "I thought we talked about this buddy and I know the words aren't sounding like you're used to, but that will only improve if you talk and do your therapy."

"I try," Sam's answers although short was understood.

"But?" Mel probed.

"Sound stupid. I not dumb." Mel smiled.

"No one said you were dumb, kiddo. Look you can't be so hard on yourself, okay? Hey, Rome wasn't built in a day. You hearin' me?" Sam nodded with hesitation. "I mean it Sam, give yourself some slack."

"Words," Sam began. "All wrong when speak. Know … not right." The words rushed out of his mouth as Mel and April listened.

"Hey, hey," April tried to calm him. "Sam just relax, okay? Listen to Mel. He's right you know … no one thinks you're dumb or sound stupid. And, if you just slow down your words will fall into place." Sam shook his head in frustration. He could hear the words coming out of his mouth as he struggled to form them, and it bothered him that the way they sounded in his head never came out the same way. "Just slow down Sam." The young man just stared at his two therapists.

"Look Sam," Mel tried to calm the situation before Sam became too upset to do any PT. "April is all finished for the day, right?" He looked at April.

"Yes, we're finished Sam. You can take a break. I'll be back on Saturday."

"Good, let's get you out of bed," Mel suggested, and get you to the gym. He helped Sam out of the bed and into a wheelchair. Sam was dressed in blue sweat pants and a gray t-shirt with a Led Zeppelin logo. "Zeppelin, eh? Aren't you a little young to be a fan?" Sam just shrugged. "Cat got your tongue? I mean just 'cause we're not doing the speech therapy thing anymore today doesn't mean you have to be mute." Mel smiled. "Let me guess, these are some clothes that brother of yours brought over, huh?" Sam nodded.

"Bought for me at store … in town."

"Well, well, the mime can speak after all. And, see how well that went kiddo." Sam offered a small smile.

"What we do today?"

"Today we're going to do your regular PT. And, I think today's the day to try and take some steps as I help. And, you get some occupational therapy today. The sooner we get your finer motor skills fine tuned the faster you'll be able to hold a fork or spoon to feed yourself. That'll be nice, huh? And, you have pool therapy today at 2:00."

"No like blocks," Sam's brow was creased.

"Blocks? You mean the peg and block board Darlene has you do during some of your occupational therapy?" Sam nodded. "Why?"

"Not a baby. Blocks for babies and kids."

"Fair enough," Mel relented. "But, they are helping you Sam more than you know. I get that you don't like them, but they are helping. Trust me, all right? Haven't I always been straight with you?"

"I … trust you. Still not like blocks." Mel chuckled.

"You're a stubborn one aren't you? Look I'll talk to Darlene and see if she can come up with something different, but if she says this is the best way for now, you stick with it, agreed?"

"Okay." Sam answered simply.

"All right, let's get a move on. The days a wasting."

**Meanwhile, Jefferson City Auto Repair**

"Hey Dean?" Larry chimed in as he entered the back end of the garage.

"Yeah, under here," Dean called out from below a truck. He rolled out and looked up at the man. "What's up?"

"How close are you to finishing this clunker up?" Dean smiled.

"Another ten minutes ought to do it? Why Mr. Jasper riding your ass to get it back?"

"No, that old coot could care less. I was just thinking today's your kid brother's birthday, right?"

"Yeah," Dean was wondering where this was going. Larry looked at his watch before speaking.

"I was just thinking that maybe you'd like to cut out of here an hour early, and do whatever you have planned. I mean, I just figured you probably had some kind of plans for him, right?" He smiled knowing all to well that Dean most likely did.

"Yeah, I did," Dean spoke with a broad smile. "I won't be putting you out?"

"Nah, finish up here, and all's good. And, well, since it's Thursday, I won't see you till Monday, and I thought I'd save you a trip into the city and give you your paycheck a day early." He handed it to Dean.

"Thanks Larry."

"Not a problem. Hey, how old is your kid brother today, anyway?"

"Twenty-four," Dean answered.

"Man, to be that young again," Larry mused.

"Well, you're not exactly collecting social security yet Larry," Dean laughed.

Dean drove through Jefferson and stopped at Emily's Bakery and Confections store. "May I help you?" A middle-aged woman asked from behind the counter.

"Yeah, could I get a couple cupcakes?" Dean asked.

"Sure, vanilla or chocolate icing?"

"Both chocolate, and do you sell birthday candles by any chance?"

"Sure, there in packs of 10 … they're over there on the spinning rack. I'll box the cupcakes up for you."

"Thanks," Dean answered, as he walked over to grab a pack of candles. Dean planned to stop at the bank and make a deposit and get some cash back from his pay check. It was still a strange thing to him that he actually had a bank account now, and received paychecks. He had suddenly found himself being very responsible, and the truth be known he was completely kept busy with work and Sam's rehab that he never really thought about hunting that much. Sure there were some nights on the weekends when cable would play some cheesy horror movie, and it would stir that inner fire to hunt, but he had his priorities right now, and hunting wasn't even a blip on the radar. He wanted to run home and shower before he saw Sam. He never went to see Sam still dirty and in his mechanic overall's.

He was always eager to see Sammy at the end of a long day at the shop. He was still elated over the conversation he had had with Sam's doctor, Dr. Myers, and she was thrilled with Sam's progress, although she was always careful to tell him that she was _optimistically guarded_ when it came to defining Sam's potential progress. He had improved by leaps and bounds as far as Dean considered his brother's recovery, and even though he knew Dr. Myers was a positive person, otherwise, he knows he may never have found a place to take Sam. He knows she believes in his little brother enough to give him the best foot forward.

Dean still went to bed troubled at night by the fact that Sam never calls him by name, and despite the doctor and therapists saying they were certain that Sam did in fact remember his brother; he himself sometimes wondered if Sam truly did know who he was. Sure Sam seemed to acknowledge the use of the word brother, and when questioned about family, he always answered in the affirmative. But, he just wished he could go home one night knowing for sure, but when he was with Sam and saw him trying so hard to reclaim what he had lost, he could only be proud of his little brother, and whether or not Sam would ever say his name didn't matter so much.

**Ivy Ridge, Early Evening**

Dean breezed into Sam's room with a quick knock to alert his brother to his arrival. The TV was on and Sam turned his head away from the program on.

"Hey, Sammy!" Dean said with a big smile. "You had a big day today with a lot of your therapies, huh?"

"Yes."

"Did they go okay?"

"Yeah."

"Oh yeah," Dean replied casually. "That's good." Dean pulled a rolling bedside side table over to Sam, and put the box down. "I got you something Sammy." Dean opened the box and displayed two chocolate covered cupcakes. He pulled out the one and put it on a paper towel. He proceeded to open the box of candles and put a single candle in the cupcake and light the candle. "Happy Birthday Sammy," Dean said with a warm smile. "Shh," Dean said with a mischievous grin watching the door. "Now, you make a quick wish Sammy before they catch us with a lit candle." Sam awarded Dean with that lopsided grin that pulled at his heart strings. _Damn, I love this kid_, he thought to himself.

Sam blew out the candle and Dean couldn't help, but note that his little brother seemed so happy over such a small gesture. Sometimes it struck him at how wide-eyed and new Sam seemed to take some things. "Here," Dean took a plastic knife and proceeded to cut the cupcake into four equal sections to make it easier for Sam to handle with his fingers. He wasn't able to handle silverware yet, and was fed at meal time, but he seemed to have a handle on finger foods. "Go ahead and use your hands Sammy, its' okay," Dean encouraged. Sam eyed him and looked pensive. "What's wrong?"

"Buy two. Why no eat?" Dean grinned.

"Nothing gets by you does it Sherlock? I'm going to take that one back to the apartment for later."

"Want some?" Sam motioned to his four pieces of cupcake.

"Nah, kiddo, that's for you. I'm good." Sam smiled and went to eat a piece, but a small muscle spasm in his wrist caused his hand to jerk at the last moment and he missed his mouth and hit his left cheek smearing the chocolate icing. Dean saw the instant anger bubble up in his brother. "Hey, hey," he encouraged. "Not a problem."

"Idiot … no feed self … I … I …" he stammered the words out in a frustrated rush. And, the only way he could think to discharge this rage came out in one small action; he threw the remnants of the squashed cupcake piece in his hand to the floor. "Shit," he said very clearly.

"Sammy, it's okay, man … accidents happen you know. Hey, when your muscles get more therapy those spasms will quiet down," Dean encouraged. "Remember Mel said so. It'll get better Sam. And, I don't want to hear you calling yourself an idiot, okay? I'm not kidding." Dean bent down to clean the crumbs off the floor with a wet paper towel, and tossed the trash in the nearest bin. "Now," he said turning to his brother who sat dejectedly staring at his hands; his left cheek still bore the chocolate smear. "Okay, let's get you cleaned up, so you can eat that cupcake." Dean thought nothing of it as he wet a new paper towel and wiped the sticky sweetness off his brother's face. Sam allowed him, but kept his eyes down. "It really is okay Sammy," Dean assured. And, just as Dean started to turn to throw the paper towel away Sam spoke slowly and deliberately, and the words were undeniable.

"Thanks Dean."

Dean never anticipated the key to the dam holding back months and months of emotions over his brother and what had happened would break under two simple words combined into a lethal punch, as Dean Winchester's well guarded mask crumbled, and he cried.

**To Be Continued**

**Okay, you'll have to let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know it was a little late coming, but I've been detained by some life events that prevented me from writing, but as soon as I could I tried to whip out a chunky chapter for you. Like it? Bored stiff? Keep going? Give up? Hate it? Let me know your thoughts. Thanks in advance for taking the time to leave a review! And, thanks for sticking with the story, thus far.**


	9. Push

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** As always, thanks for the reviews. They really do help me in knowing how I'm doing with this story. Keep them coming.

Read and Review!

**Chapter Nine**

**Push**

By Dawn Nyberg

"… _You've seen me at my weakest, but you take me as I am. And, when I fall you offer me a softer place to land. You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all together. You're the one true thing I know I can believe in … I get mad so easy, but you give me room to breathe. No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight about it, even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go, you won't stoop down to battle, but you never turn to go. There are times I can't decide when I can't tell up from down, you make me feel less crazy when otherwise I'd drown, but you pick me up and brush me off, and tell me I'm OK sometimes that's just what we need to get us through the day." _Lyric excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _Push_

Dean covered his face with a single hand as his shoulders shook. The words _Thanks Dean_ still were echoing in his head. Quiet sobs escaped beneath his hand. Sam sat stunned, and then his face scrunched into one of concern. He couldn't figure out what he had said or done to make his big brother cry. Dean never cried.

"S… S… Sorry," Sam pushed out as quickly as he could. "Not know what did. Not mean … to hurt." Sam's distraught voice broke through Dean's tears, and he looked up from his hand to meet his brother's warm and fear filled eyes. Sam saw the large tears of his brother's cascade down his cheeks, and he couldn't look away from the glassy, bloodshot hazel eyes peeking out from behind his hand.

"No, no, Sammy," Dean stepped forward offering a tentative smile in an attempt to reassure his brother. "Sammy, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Not true. You cry. I make sad." Sam's face was dissolving into desperation as he fought to arrange his words, and his brain rebelled against him. He wanted so desperately to express himself to his big brother, but the words he wanted to say would either get lost on the way from his mind to his mouth or come out as they almost always did, jumbled and incomplete. He fisted his hand and struck the mattress beneath him.

"No, Sammy. Stop, you might hurt yourself," he urged as he stepped forward stopping his brother from repeatedly striking the mattress. "These are happy tears Sammy, not sad." Sam looked hard at his brother, and his face softened into a small smile.

"Happy?" His voice sounded questioning. "Never cry." Dean's response was a wet kind of sounding laugh that was a mixture of tears and laughter.

"Yeah, well, must be a blue moon, huh?" Dean quipped. Sam gave him an odd look at the reply. "Never mind Sammy," he replied. "You made me happy that's all."

"Dean?" The sound of that one word caused Dean's throat to tighten. He bunched a fist at his side trying desperately to funnel his emotions to that one fist. His tears happy or not scared Sammy right now, and he'd try to hold back. He felt the moment rise up in him and recede back, and as the feeling unclenched itself from him his fist released.

"Yeah, Sammy?" He tried to make his voice light.

"Took step today." Sam thought some news may take his brother's mind off his tears.

"Huh? You mean Mel had you walk today," Dean couldn't help, but feel upset that he hadn't been here to see. "Dammit, sorry I missed it Sammy."

"Not miss." Sam replied. "Just one step and fall."

"Fall!"

"No, Mel not let fall." Sam saw Dean's face and shoulders relax as he learned his brother hadn't fallen or been injured. Dean smiled at his little brother. "What?" Sam asked with curious eyes.

"Nothing," Dean offered. "It's just nice that you're being a chatter bird tonight. You've been quiet most nights lately. It's nice that's all."

"How work?"

"Hey, you don't want to hear about that stuff," Dean suggested. "I want to know about your day today. What about speech therapy and you had occupational therapy today too, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Not want talk me. Talk you."

"Okay, okay," Dean raised his hands in surrender. "Nothing too big Sammy. The garage is pretty busy, so I keep myself entertained. Rebuilt a transmission today … nothing too fantastic, but the money's good, and my boss Larry is a good guy."

"Work by self?"

"You mean do I work alone?" Sam nodded. "Nah, there are three other guys there, too. Ah, Riley, Juan and Scott. They're nice. I don't hang out with them, well, maybe a beer once, but I got other things to do ya know? I get off a couple hours before they do anyway, so I don't really get the chance."

"You okay, Dean?"

"Huh? Yeah, of course, kiddo," Dean assured. "You don't have to worry about your big brother."

"Still worry." Sam relented. Dean smiled and reached up and ruffled his brother's hair before he could stop himself.

"You need a haircut Samantha," he quipped trying to cover the chick flick moment.

"Like hair. No cut." Sam answered emphatically.

**Two Hours Later**

Dean sat watching Sam who had fallen asleep about twenty minutes ago. His attention was brought to the door as Kyle; Sam's evening attendant came into the room. "Just wanted to check on him," Kyle voice was hushed. Sam's muscle coordination wasn't enough to properly get himself turned at night, so he still needed help, but he was making efforts to do it on his own. "Has he been asleep long?"

"Nah, about twenty minutes. How's his sleep when I leave? I mean nightmares or anything?"

"He's been good. He moves in his sleep, but just doesn't quite change positions like he should, so I'm still helping him with that. Sam's doing well." Dean nodded.

**Dean's Apartment**

Dean pulled into his parking spot. It was a small complex owned by a mom and pop couple. He had counted the number of units when he moved in, and there were only 14 apartments an assortment of studio, one and two bedroom units. All units were on the ground level which the hunter in him preferred, and the tenet in him liked because no one lived on top of you and he didn't have to listen to people walking on his ceiling. He had a reserved spot in from of his studio. He liked having his own place, but it wasn't home, not yet, not without Sammy.

He walked into his studio and slid the bakery box into his fridge. He clicked on the TV and put the evening news on mostly for background noise, as he grabbed his black journal. He smiled at the notion that since Sam's injury he hadn't written any hunting entries in his journal, but the new entries were plentiful, but was about his life right now, and a lot was about Sammy. He would write when ever an improvement happened or sometimes just because. He grabbed an ink pen to write an entry, but the journal slipped from his hand as he opened it and it flipped to the carpet. He could see it landed on an entry and he decided to read it.

_April 10, 2006_

_Sammy spoke today. He said, 'no.' I guess some people would say that isn't much, but I'm not some people. He smiled at me today, too, and it was a real smile, not some reflex type thing. I can see him get frustrated at the speech therapy, and until today, he had only been making noises. It scares me that he knows something isn't right with him, and I hate it that I can't take this on for him. He's awake and out of the coma, but I still feel like he's lost in the dark, and dammit, I hate feeling helpless._

Dean continued to glance at the entry, and smiled at the memory of how excited he had been when Sam had said 'no,' in response to something, and he had really meant to say 'no' it was the first time Sam had expressed himself, and made himself understood. He turned a few pages, and randomly stopped on another entry.

_April 20, 2006_

_Work is good. I guess I never knew what earning a real paycheck was like. Sammy still hasn't called me by name. Dr. Myers tells me he will in time, but she can't give me a reason why he hasn't. Part of me is afraid that Sam doesn't remember me and that he just knows my face because I'm always around. But, Mel tells me Sam knows I'm his brother, and knows what that means. I never knew how out whack my perspective was on life until Sammy got sick. I mean, when he was in the hospital all I could think about was 'I can't lose him' and I've never been so afraid. And, before he collapsed, my main focus was hunting, always the hunt. Damn I was so stupid. I'm still pissed at Dad for giving up on Sam, but as much as I want to say I can't see where he's coming from, I guess I sort of do. He doesn't want to see his child, our Sammy in a state any less than what he was. But, still I get angry when I think about him. _

_Sam's birthday is coming up soon and I can't explain how light that makes me feel. I know he's not back to the Sam that was before he got sick, and part of me gets that he may never be totally back to what he was, but it doesn't really sink in, you know? All I know is I have my brother back in my life, and when he looks at me truly seeing me, and smiles, nothing seems wrong anymore. And, I can see so much potential, and a little bit of Sammy's light rubs off on me and my shadows don't own me. _

Dean shook his head with mild amusement at reading his words. He found some humor in the fact he'd suddenly turned literary, _Sammy would be so proud_, he mused in his own head. He started to turn the pages looking for a blank page to write on, but one entry caught his eye and he stopped. His fingers clenched around the journal as he remembered the frustration and anger he had felt when he wrote that entry.

_April 29, 2006_

_Sam had to be sedated today because he was so upset. Fuck! This shit isn't fair, and Sammy tries so hard, and everything is so difficult for him. He doesn't deserve any of this crap. He was trying so hard to do his speech therapy today, and the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. I could see him getting upset with himself, and Jesus, I know it has to be driving him over the edge because he can't express himself. And, I'm no damn help. I can't make him better, I can't make it so he can tell you how he feels or what he wants. I can't help him, goddammit. And, today the poor kid couldn't even think how to say the word apple. But, it wasn't until April tried having him point out shapes on a poster board that things went to hell. She said Sam is still having' cognitive association' difficulties, as she says it. And, when she said point out the circle and he pointed to the square, god, I remember the moment she smiled and said, 'almost Sam, let's try another. Point to the triangle,' man I remember his face. _

_He looked so lost and then I saw the fear in is eyes because it was sinking in with him that he had really chosen the wrong shape. He tried again, and I was just hoping for dumb luck just so the kid didn't have to think he'd failed. But, when I saw his finger point to the rectangle, I literally felt my stomach tie into knots. Sam shoved the rolling bedside table away and began hitting the bed and pulling at the fitted bed sheet. It scared the shit out of me. I could see the fat tears falling from his eyes, and all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around my little brother and tell him it'll be okay, but how can I when I don't know if it will be. But, he won't let anyone near him, and the next thing I know Dr. Myers is there and having Sam restrained as he fights against the attendants as much as he was able, and they're holding him down while she sedates him afraid he'll hurt himself. I was actually relieved when I saw Sammy's head lull back onto the bed as his eyes closed into a drug induced unconsciousness. Jesus, what kind of brother am I when I can't protect him from life and I'm actually relieved when he's sedated into a stupor?_

_Sonofabitch! _

Dean drew in a shaky breath as his body released the familiar feeling of rage that entry brought up. Although, Sam was having some of the same issues even now, he was getting better. Now, it seemed he could point to the right shapes, but had difficulty with the words. He smiled as he thought of his little brother, Sam had only ever reached that level of aggression once, and Dean knew he'd never be able to cope with what Sammy has over the last few months. Sam amazed him every day. His brother still got mad, and who could blame him, but he was coping. Dean turned to a blank page and started to write.

_May 2, 2006_

_Well, Sammy you turned twenty-four today! And, it turns out I'm the one that received the birthday gift. My baby brother said my name tonight. It was clear, and he didn't stumble over it. I can't even put into words everything I feel. Damn, it hit me so hard I broke down in front of the kid, and I'm pretty sure that it scared him, but he bounced back though after I told him I was okay. I didn't mean to do it, but it just happened, and you know the old saying, you can't un-ring a bell._

_He was talkative tonight, well, talkative for him at least. I know he understands that his words don't come out like they should, but he's trying so hard, and I can't even begin to say how much I admire my little brother. Mel tried to get him walking today, but that didn't go so well, but next time. I plan not to miss the next attempt. He let me help him tonight and didn't push me away when he was mad with himself. Sam had a little eating snafu with his cupcake and it seems a major temper crisis was avoided after he had a damn muscle spasm and missed his mouth, but it ended with him saying 'thanks Dean.' And, I know he meant thanks for more than cleaning some icing off his cheek. That kid means the world to me, and I'll do whatever it takes to give him whatever recovery he can accomplish. _

Dean yawned as he closed his journal. It had been a long day. He looked at the clock, and laughed it was barely 10:30 in the evening. He had to see the humor in this moment, well, for the last couple months really. Before Sam's head injury, he would have scoffed at going to bed any earlier than 1 or 2 AM, and that was after a few beers at a local bar, or maybe a quick lay with some girl, whose name he wouldn't remember much past rolling out of bed to get dressed and return to whatever motel he and Sammy were staying at. _Damn, how things change, _he thought to himself. He took went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and decided on another quick shower to just relax him, and then he walked back out into the room. He shut the TV off, and proceeded to pull the cushions off the couch and fold out a full size bed. He walked over to his large walk in closet and grabbed his pillow. He actually had some fresh sheets on the bed, and he knew Sammy would be so proud over that fact.

He laid back into the pillow for a moment with a sigh, and then rose up to turn the light off beside the bed. The room was bathed in shadow and moonlight that peeked around the edges of his thick curtains. Dean Winchester felt something tonight he hadn't felt in months, he felt joy. Sure he'd been happy even ecstatic at times over Sam's milestones, but not until tonight and hearing his little brother say his name, not until that moment, he hadn't known joy on its purest level. Tonight, he would finally sleep soundly.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, it wasn't as long as the last chapter, but they can't all be chunky. Well, you'll have to let me know what you thought of this one. Not a lot of action, but not every chapter can be action packed. Now, the next update most likely won't come until late next week sometime, I hope. But, I thought a quick update might be a nice treat since you had to wait a while for the last chapter. Please, take a moment to leave a review and tell me what you think! I appreciate all of your comments. Thanks!**


	10. If I Could

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** I wanted to say thank you for the reviews for all of the previous chapters. And, also I want to say thanks to those readers who have made a point to review every chapter! I thank you for your dedication. And, this chapter came together quicker than I thought it would, so you didn't have to wait until the end of the week for an update. However, I haven't started on chapter eleven, yet, but, soon. Thanks for your patience.

I still haven't decided how long this story will be ultimately, so I'll play it by ear and see how things go. Thanks for reading!

Read and Review.

**Chapter Ten**

**If I Could**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_If I could, I'd protect you from the sadness in your eyes. Give you courage in a world of compromise … I would shield your innocence from time … I would help you make it through the hungry years, but I know I can never cry your tears … but, I would if I could … If I knew, I'd try to change the world I brought you to, now there isn't much more that I can do, but I would if I could … Yes, I would … if I could …" _Lyric excerpt by Regina Belle, _If I Could_

**Two Days Later, Following Sam's Birthday**

"Okay Sam," Mel encouraged from his rolling stool in front of the young man. "Grasp the parallel bars and lean forward and stand," he said as he made sure he had locked down Sam's wheelchair from moving. Mel reached up and grabbed the harness belt around Sam's hips to steady him. Dean stood a few feet away on the wall watching and anticipating his little brother's first steps for the second time in his life. Sam's face was flushed as he struggled to hold his weight on his weak legs. Dean could see Sam's arms tremble under the strain. "That's it Sam," Mel urged. "Now take your right foot," and Mel tapped the leg he wanted the young man to move first. "Lift up and move forward. Keep it small." It looked a bit awkward, but without the current ability to take the fluid second step with the other leg that usually indicated walking Sam looked a little apprehensive to make any grand gestures. His right foot lifted ever so slightly, and mostly equated to a shuffle when he actually went for the actual movement.

"There that's good. You're doin' it. Now move your hands a little more forward and move your left leg as you do, so you can get some forward movement." Sam grunted quietly at the effort. His left leg didn't want to cooperate, and his left foot wouldn't scoot, so he tried lifting his leg a little more, and his ankle flopped weakly in the air, and he tried to make the step, but his left leg gave out, and he lurched forward. Dean stepped off the wall afraid his brother would hurt himself. Mel held firmly on Sam's harness, "I got ya buddy." He comforted. Sam's arms were trembling violently as he fought to stay standing. "Hey, hey," Mel said standing up, as he helped Sam back down into his wheelchair. "It's hard work, okay. You almost did it today."

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean replied with a beaming smile. "It'll happen, okay?"

Sam stared at the ground, and when Mel went to unlock the wheels Sam jerked his hand out to stop him. "No leave. Do again."

"Sam," Mel began. "You should take a breather. We'll try again tomorrow." Sam shook his head.

"No. Try again. Now." His brow was creased in tension and frustration.

"Sammy, listen to Mel. You could hurt yourself if you push to hard, too fast."

"No," Sam's voice was strong and the stubbornness behind the word undeniable. He grasped the poles and jerked himself up again into a standing position. His arms quivered, but remained steady.

"Okay, this man means business," Mel quipped as he remained standing to help Sam. He pushed his stool away to open up the area for them between the bars. He put his hands on the hip harness.

"No, do by self. No help."

"Sorry kiddo, but if you fall I gotta be there to keep it from happening."

"Let do myself. Please," Sam's eyes a mixture of raw emotion and determination.

"Fine, but I'm staying right here, and I won't let you fall, I promise."

Dean could feel his jaw muscle tense as he watched Sam's inner struggle with his rebelling body. Watching his brother struggle with the task of taking a full complete step made his chest ache. He felt cold and hollow at the inability to make this all go away for his little brother. Sam struggled with his right leg and made the movement. He grunted under the strain as beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down the sides of his face. He fought with the left foot that didn't want to do anything, but drag, as if it were broken at the ankle and had no control. His arms shook as he struggled to slide them across the bars. His knuckles white from the tightness of his grip. "Not want work," his voice hitched in anger and fear.

"Take your time," Mel encouraged. "Remember I told you your brain might have a different effect with other sides of your body because of the head injury. You can do this Sam, just be slow and deliberate about it. Take control, pull up and push out just like you do against my hand when were on the mats." Sam's face scrunched in tight concentration. He looked up for a moment and met eyes with his big brother standing and watching with warm eyes.

"You got it Sammy," his voice encouraging. "Now show that bitch called walking who's her daddy." Sam's mouth quirked up at the edges and he smiled despite his shaking body. Sam locked eyes with Dean and pulled all the support and strength he could from those hazel eyes, and he lifted his left leg, and took a step. When his left foot connected with the ground he remained looking at his brother and picked up his right foot and took a step. "Sammy! You're doing it!"

"I'll be damned," Mel spoke in astonishment. "Well…don't stop now." Sam kept looking at his brother, never breaking his gaze. Mel moved backward in time with Sam's forward steps. Sam struggled with determination, and with effort he picked up and put down each foot, and slid his hands along the pole. And before he knew it he was at the end of the pole with room enough for one more complete step. Mel felt the moment, and stepped aside and without word Dean stepped forward, and Sam took that final complete step, and fell into his brother's waiting arms. Dean held Sam firmly against him as they remained standing.

"Sammy," Dean choked as he held him, "you did it little brother, you did it." He felt Sam's trembling body and despite the physical exhaustion of his body he still wrapped his arms around his big brother and hugged him. Sam dropped his head and rested a cheek against his brother's shoulder. Mel went to get the wheelchair as Sam clung to his brother. Dean felt the cloth of his t-shirt growing wet, and reached up with one hand and cupped Sam's head comfortingly trying to quell his brother's tears, as he strengthened his grip around Sam's body with his other free hand. He fought the hot tears stinging his own eyes.

"Dean, I walk on own."

"Yes, you did kiddo. I'm proud of you. I knew you could do it."

Moments later Dean and Mel both aided Sam in sitting back in his wheelchair. "Well, little man," Mel quipped. "I think after that little marathon of steps you just did we better get you some hydrotherapy before your muscles remind you who the boss is."

Sam nodded, and smiled a genuine smile that reached his eyes for the first time since he collapsed six months ago. Dean felt as though all the air in the room was vacuumed away when he saw that smile. Sure he'd managed to get a smile or two out of Sam, and although they had been real they never truly reached his eyes, but today he knew Sam felt he had accomplished something, and he had. Dean silently rebuked the doctors at the hospital in his head. He never wanted Sammy to know that they had given him no hope at all, and he never wanted his little brother to know that their father had accepted he was hopeless. He'd protect him from as much as he could.

**Three Hours Later**

Sam slept peacefully in his bed while Dean sat in a chair near the bay window in his brother's room reading a magazine. Sam had been exhausted after his PT with Mel and the hydrotherapy had relaxed him, so when he was helped back into his bed he drifted off within ten minutes. Dean glanced over at his brother as he heard the sheets stir as his little brother moved and quickly settled again with a sigh remaining asleep. Dean smiled.

Mel appeared in the door and caught Dean's attention and motioned him to outside in the corridor. "He's still wiped out, huh?" Mel questioned.

"Yeah, he's been out for three hours now."

"Well, he deserves a nap after what he pulled off today." He glanced at his watch. "I saw that he's scheduled for speech therapy today with April at 3:00, so he's going to have a full day."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "It works out though," Dean began. "I'm meeting with Dr. Myers today since she had to be out of the center on Friday. I told she didn't have to come here on a Saturday, but she insisted. She's been great to Sam and me."

"Well, I have two more PT patients to see," Mel started. "I just wanted to check in on him, and see how he was doing after his marathon today."

"What he did today Mel," Dean asked. "It'll get better, right? He's not going to struggle like that forever."

"No, he'll walk Dean. The left leg has some obvious strength and coordination issues, but I'll add some more PT exercises to help his left catch up with his right. That kid will do an Irish jig out of this place when he leaves." Mel smiled broadly.

"Thanks Mel." The older man just simply raised a hand to stop Dean.

"He's a great kid, Dean. I like to say I go the extra mile for all of my patients, but Sam for some reason, you can't help, but get attached to him." Dean gave a knowing smile.

"It's the eyes," he offered.

"Huh?" Mel raised an eyebrow.

"He gives you those puppy eyes of his, and you're wrapped around his little finger. It's like Kryptonite to me, and I haven't met a person yet that can resist," Dean chuckled.

"You have a point," Mel conceded. "Hey, you better wake him up soon," Mel suggested. "Lunch will be coming around soon unless you want to take him to the dining room."

"Nah, he chose a lunch delivery today. He didn't want to eat in the dining room."

Mel nodded and shortly he and Dean said their goodbyes and Dean walked quietly over to Sam's bedside. He looked at his watch and was surprised to see that he and Mel had talked for a half hour. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was quiet. "Hey, Sleepy head, time to rise and shine." Sam's response was to grunt quietly and scrunch his face. Dean reached down and tousled his brother's hair. "Come on Sammy, open those eyes."

"No want. Tired." Sam's sleep inflected voice responded as he opened his eyes to slits to evaluate his older brother. Dean grinned. He would have sworn that Sam looked like he did when he was six.

"Come on sleeping beauty," he urged. "Lunch will be here soon, and you still have to work with April today in another couple hours." Sam opened his eyes fully and frowned.

"No talk. Hate it." Dean gave his brother a sympathetic look.

"Look kiddo, I know it's hard, but it's getting better every therapy session."

"No understand. Words not right. I know wrong." And, there it was, solid confirmation that Sam did truly know he was different now.

"Sammy, I can't begin to get what you're going through, but I know how hard this is on you," he offered. "I see it when you do your therapy. And, the words won't always be wrong. Things will get better. Just stick with it okay?"

"Hate."

"I thought you liked April," Dean looked at Sam with curious eyes.

"I do. I not like talk."

"Look Sammy, I know this isn't your idea of fun, but you gotta do this speech therapy. I know you don't like the other stuff either, but it's helping you. Please, Sam, I know you're trying so hard, I see it, and I know. But, you got to keep with it." He could see the stubborn set his younger brother's jaw. "Don't you want to get better? Are you happy with the way things are right now? Huh?" He kept his voice soft, but his tone was insistent. Sam shook his head slightly. "Huh? What was that?" Dean countered. "I didn't hear you."

"No," Sam began. "I want … to be … better," he answered slowly as he struggled to find all the right words. "I feel … dumb." He dropped his eyes from Dean's and stared at his hands. Dean wanted so badly to fix everything, but there was no quick fix for this, and ultimately he knew that Sam may plateau in improvements at some point, but he didn't want to cross that bridge yet, he'd wait.

"Sammy," his voice soft as he reached out and out his hand on top of his brother's folded ones. "Look at me," he encouraged. Sam slowly looked up and met eyes with his big brother. Dean saw the glistening warm eyes of his little brother. "Hey, I want you to hear me little brother. You're not dumb. And, I don't want you to think that, and no one here thinks you are either. You hear me?"

Sam offered a slight smile and nodded. "Yes," came out so quietly that anyone else may have not heard it, but Dean did, and he gave Sam a knowing nod. "I … p… promise … to try." Sam awarded his brother with his famous lopsided grin.

"I know you will Sammy, I know."

**Later that Afternoon**

Dean sat across from Dr. Myers in her office while Sam was doing his speech therapy with April. "I read over Mel's notes about today's PT session Dean, and I'm thrilled with Sam's progress. He has made such huge steps in his recovery. We've discussed his speech and other therapies. And, all of the reports from his other therapist are all positive. I know he has some frustration issues over his situation, but all in all he is handling it quite well. But, you should know that you've been a big help in his recovery. If Sam didn't have you, I doubt he would have made the improvements that he has."

"Thanks, but he's doing all the work. I'm just around."

"Don't sell yourself short Dean. You're a big support to your brother, and it is very important for a rehab patient to have family support." Dean nodded.

"Dr. Myers?"

"Yes."

"Sam's still making progress, but when do we know if he's done all the improving he's going to do?"

"Well, once he's released from here. I'd like to keep him on an out patient program for a year, and then we should know where we stand. But, also if a particular deficit doesn't continue to improve while here then it may be feasible to accept he may have reached a plateau with it, but right now it's too early to predict. I don't want to pigeon hole Sam."

"Yeah, me either." Dean responded quickly. "Um, what about the future?" He started hesitantly. "I mean, I know it's probably too early to say, but what about his future? I mean work or school … will he be able to?"

"I have every hope that Sam will reclaim his life to the best of his abilities Dean. But, it is a hope right now, and until he has finished his rehab here, and he's been discharged to our out patient program for extended rehab I can't say what he'll reclaim."

"I know. Sorry, I mentioned it."

"No, I understand why you want to know, I do. He's on track Dean." She assured. "Based on the diagnosis he received from the hospital he's all ready blown their theories of his recovery potential out of the water. I believe in Sam and his determination to recover." Dr. Myers was about to say something when her beeper went off. "Sorry, let me just take a look at this…"

"Sure." Dean replied. He watched her casually pull her beeper off her jacket pocket and look at it reading the short text message. He watched her face crease with concern.

"It's a 911 page," she said standing. "It's Sam." Dean's eyes widened in sheer panic at the doctor's words, and he followed Dr. Myers urgent steps out the door toward the rehab wing that Sam's room was located.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, as always, let me know what you're thinking about the story, so far. I'm very thankful to everyone that takes the time to review my story. I really do appreciate your comments. So, let me know what you're thinking!**

**And, please take the time to review, thanks!**


	11. Hush

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thank you for the amazing response to the last chapter. I appreciate every review and comment. I'll make an effort to not make you wait too long between updates, but sometimes it will be unavoidable. Thanks in advance for your patience and for sticking with the story.

**Chapter Eleven**

**Hush**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night. You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light …"_ Excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _I Will Remember You_

**Ivy Ridge, Rehab Wing 2 East**

Dr. Myer's entered the wing with deliberate strides. Dean followed closely next to her. She spotted the red blinking light above Sam's door as soon as his room was in view. "Dean," she stopped for a moment. "I think it would be best if you wait here in the sitting area. I'll come to get you when I know what's happening."

"I have to see him," his voice insistent.

"Please, just wait." He nodded curtly and remained where he was. Dr. Myers voice was forceful, and she hadn't meant to sound abrupt, but she had to get to her patient. She noticed that the red crash cart that usually sits stationed on the wall near the nurse's station was gone. Her face looked grim. She walked into Sam's room to a flurry of activity. Dr. Robert's, a third year resident was talking to a nurse and April.

"Look just load him up on the Phenabarb, now!" Sam was conscious, and as soon as Dr, Myer's saw what was happening, she knew what she was seeing.

"Dr. Robert's, let me evaluate him," she spoke up as soon as she was fully in the room. "He's clearly having a Jacksonian seizure." She looked Sam in the eyes. "Sam, it's okay, all right. We're going to stop that for you. You need to calm down." Sam's face was filled with fear as his left hand and arm jerked spastically and wouldn't stop. He nodded. He was tense and the more his anxiety grew the worse the seizure in his arm was becoming. "It's okay, Sam," she comforted. "Please, just relax." Dr. Myer's adjusted the dose of Phenabarb and injected Sam. And, within moments she could see the seizure slow and the jerking movements of Sam's hand and arm quiet and completely cease.

Dean paced liked a caged animal just past the nurses station. His mind running every horrible, nightmarish scenario it could conjure up concerning Sammy.

"April, when did this start?"

"During our speech therapy," she began. "The seizure came on without warning." Dr. Myer's turned her eyes to Sam.

"Feeling better?"

"What wrong … with me?"

"Well, I'm going to want to confirm with a scan of your brain, but I'm almost positive Sam that you just had what we call a Jacksonian seizure. It targets a limb, or half of the body sometimes. And, that's why your hand and arm were jerking. It's typically caused by a lesion on the brain, kind of like a scar, and that's why I want a scan of your brain. Now, don't worry, okay. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for you to have some damage in the area of your brain that was affected by the large bleed you experienced with your head injury. We'll put you on some medication, an anti-convulsive, to help prevent any more break through seizures, until I see your scan."

"No want pills."

"Let's play it by ear Sam, okay? Perhaps, we can try it without meds. A seizure like the one you had can and often does subside on its own, but sometimes they can get very intense, and can lead to the entire half of your body beginning to seize. I'd like to avoid that. So we have a deal? You take the meds and we play it by ear," she suggested. Sam's eyes were glistening with unshed tears, but he nodded. "Good. You're a trooper. And, right now, the medicine I just gave will be enough for now, so pills yet, okay?" Sam met her eyes, and she knew he understood. She looked at the resident Dr. Robert's, "Could you call the MRI and tell them to set up for a scan for the patient Sam Winchester?"

"Sure Dr. Myer's." He paused a moment and she approached while April and the nurse fussed over Sam. "You adjusted the dose I was going to administer … was I wrong?"

"No, it wouldn't have harmed him, but that dose would have had him too groggy to respond to me, and I believe in the less is more theory with drugs. I give enough to have a palliative effect."

Dean saw activity as a male doctor walked out and proceeded to pick up a phone on the wall. And, Dean's heart slammed against his sternum as he watched a nurse exit rolling a red cart, he knew far too well, was a crash cart. He couldn't take it anymore and burst into his brother's room. His eyes met his brother's and Sam looked afraid. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was anxious as he approached his brother. He reached out and cupped a cheek with a comforting hand. "You okay?" Sam's eyes filled with fear and anguish, as Dean watched silent tears well up and cascade down his little brother's face. He stroked the tears away gently with his thumbs. "Will someone tell me what the hell is going on? Is my brother all right?" His eyes were intense as he looked from April to Dr. Myers waiting for someone to answer him.

"He's okay Dean," Dr. Myer's assured. "I'm taking him for a scan in a few minutes."

"Scan? Why? What's wrong?" Dean's eyes looked panicked.

"As I explained to Sam I think what he was experiencing when I came into his room was a form of a simple seizure called a Jacksonian seizure."

"Seizure!" Dean's voice was raised in alarm as he turned his eyes to his little brother.

"Dean … it okay," Sam tried to give his brother some sort of relief.

"Sammy," Dean's voice was filled with relief at hearing his brother's voice. "Look," he said turning his attention back to the doctor. "And, since when is a seizure ever simple?" Dean voice was firm. Dr. Myer's smiled.

"I know the word seizure sounds scary, but this form usually happens to one side of the body. This form of seizure most commonly occurs either in the face, arms and hands or some combination. But sometimes it can move from an appendage like an arm to increase an effect the entire half of the body. Sam's seizure was localized to his left hand and arm."

"What causes it?"

"As I told Sam I'll have to see his new scan to be sure, but I'm fairly certain I'll find that he's most likely developed a small lesion, like scar tissue in the area of his brain that was most heavily affected by the large hematoma he developed with his head injury."

"Is he in danger?"

"No," she assured. "I gave him some medication that stopped the seizure, and he may require maintenance medication in the form of an anti-convulsive, but Sam isn't too keen on the idea. So, we're going to play it by ear and see if he experiences any more break through seizure activity, and if he does we'll try to let it run its course without meds, but depending on the severity or if it progresses to body involvement beyond the hand and arm … I'll have to intervene with medication." Dean nodded.

An attendant came to help Sam into a wheelchair and take him to the MRI. "Okay, Sam," Dr. Myer's patted his shoulder. "Now, let's go take a look at that head of yours." Sam turned nervous eyes to Dean.

"Hey, Sammy, no worries," he assured. "I'm walking down with you and I'll be waiting for you when the scan is done, okay?" He saw his little brother relax. Dean took a moment to look at April. "Thanks for staying with him and helping." April smiled.

"Don't thank me," she spoke softly. "Dean," she whispered as Sam's wheelchair turned to go. Dean stopped.

"I'll be right there Sammy. I'll catch up before you're even all the way down the hall."

" 'kay." Sam answered quietly.

"Dean, I was here for the whole thing," April confirmed. "Look, I know you're worried, but it scared him more than anything and that made him panic. I'm familiar with this kind of seizure, so try not to worry too much. I know easier said than done, but I just wanted you to know that at no time was his life at risk, okay? I think it happened so fast and the lack of even more control in his life just sent him into panic mode."

"Thanks," Dean answered. "I better go."

"Sure. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, thanks. You too." And, Dean scooted out of the room and as promised caught up before they were all the way down the hall.

**Two Hours Later, Dr. Myer's Office**

"So, this lesion you found, it's like a scar you say?" Dean leaned forward.

"Sort of, but I'm certain it's what caused the Jacksonian episode. It's benign in nature. I mean it's not life threatening to him. It's actually relatively small which is a good thing."

"What about his recovery? Does this set him back?"

"No, he'll be able to proceed normally. Now, I have written orders that he's resting today, so no more therapies today. In fact, I gave him a mild sedative before the MRI, so he should be able to rest peacefully for a good chunk of the day."

"Could it get worse?"

"Well, I'm optimistic that this will only be a transient problem for Sam, but with head injury cases such as his there is always the possibility that he could develop other seizure activity that will manifest itself in other forms. But, I don't want to cross that bridge unless we have to."

"What are you saying? He could develop something else down the line, something that could hurt him?"

"There is a chance with head injuries such as his producing seizure activity on a petit mal or grand mal level. I'm hoping for neither. And, so far his scans don't lead me to believe that he is currently at risk of either."

"Not currently … but he could?"

"Unfortunately, he could, I can't rule the possibility out," Dr. Myer's tried to assure the worried young man, but he had always wanted the straight facts when it came to his younger sibling, so she was being straight. "As his brain recoups from the injury he could develop other lesions, one's that may start bigger problems, but right now, I see no evidence of that. It's a waiting game Dean," she started. "As he continues to recover through rehab there could be other concerns that arise. So, we'll just wait it out, and see what happens."

"These seizures you mentioned that you don't want to see him get, ah … the petit one, and the grand something … are they bad?"

"Well, the petit mal isn't debilitating, and rarely life threatening unless the person is hurt while the seizure is occurring because of where they are when it occurs. A petit mal," she began to explain knowing Dean would want to hear it. "It's a small attack or seizure if you will, where the patient has a brief lapse of contact with their surroundings, after which they resume usual activities. He'd just sort of blank out. Sometimes this kind of seizure could be accompanied by a twitching hand or even drooling. Now, a grand mal, is much more severe, and if not controlled early could result in respiratory arrest or even cardiac arrest, also further brain damage could result. It basically equates to a generalized convulsion. Most lose consciousness and can be slightly altered for a short period of time when they awake. It's the one seizure I don't want to see Sam develop. Now, there are some instances where a grand mal could be triggered that does not necessarily dictate that he will suffer from them forever, but at any rate, it's a seizure I would like to avoid."

Dean sat and digested the information. He wanted to get back to Sam, but he had a question that had been burning a hold in his head for a few weeks now. "Dr. Myer's," he began.

"Yes?"

"Has my father called about Sam recently?"

"No, he hasn't."

"How many times has he called?"

"Well, he can only get information about Sam from either you or myself," she started. "And, I've only spoken to him twice. Once, before Sam's transfer to the center, and he called the Monday following his transfer to see if he had been settled, and was being taken care of. I haven't spoken to him again."

Dean nodded. "Thanks." He stood up. "I think I'd like to get back to Sam. I know he's probably sleeping, but …"

"I know. Say no more," she smiled. "Now, remember if you have any questions don't hesitate to ask or have me beeped, all right?" Dean nodded. "And, the staff knows to have me paged if Sam should have another episode. I only live a ten minute commute from here, so should I be needed while I'm not here … don't worry, okay?"

"Thanks, Doc."

**Sam's Room**

Dean grabbed a chair and pulled it over to his brother's bedside. "Hey Sammy," he whispered quietly to his sleeping little brother. "You scared the shit out of me," his voice hushed. He reached up and pushed back Sam's unruly bangs. "I don't know what …" his voice caught and he felt the hot sting of tears. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you kiddo. I can't …" Sam stirred and slowly opened his sleep heavy eyes. Dean met his brother's gaze and smiled warmly. "Hey, little brother," his voice was gentle. "How ya feelin'?"

"M' kay," Sam's sleep inflected voice answered. Sam opened his eyes a little more fully and studied Dean. "You okay?"

"I'm good, Sammy. You don't have to worry about me, all right?" Sam frowned.

"You worry … about … me. Why I … can't worry?"

"Because you keep forgetting who the big brother is here," Dean answered with a wide smile. "It's my job to worry about you."

"Not care what you say," Sam's face determined. "I worry 'bout you, too. My job." Dean chuckled.

"Okay," he conceded. "But, I promise, I'm all right." Sam nodded.

"Not like jerk … ing." Dean looked at Sam for a second trying to work out the sentence in his head, and then it hit him that his brother couldn't verbalize the word 'seizure.'

"You mean the seizure?"

"Yes. Not like."

"Were you in pain?" Dean eyes were intense.

"Not really hurt. Mus…" Sam's brow creased as he couldn't form the word he wanted to say.

"Muscles?" Dean suggested, and Sam smiled. "So, it doesn't hurt, but what about your muscles?"

"Tight when happen. Not hurt … but, not like."

"So, you're uncomfortable, but not in pain."

"No pain." Dean felt a little relief at that, but it was cold comfort.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"What … happened?"

"Huh?" Dean looked confused. "You had a seizure Sam, remember?"

"Not jerk …ing. Head … what … happened to me?" This was the moment Dean had dreaded because part of him wondered what Sam did remember, and whether or not his little brother recalled any of the events of the hospital and what his father and he had said to him before his collapse.

"What's the last memory you have?"

"Cabin. Demon. Then car. Going to hos…hos…" his eyes closed in frustration.

"Hospital." Dean supplied. Sam opened his eyes and nodded. "You remember you were driving Dad and me to the hospital?" Sam nodded. "Then what?"

"Nothing," he spoke slowly making sure the word came out correctly.

"We had a wreck," Dean offered. "A semi truck hit the Impala. Plowed into us pretty good. You hurt your head. They said you had a severe concussion. You signed out AMA from what my nurse told me. You basically told her to mind her own business, and then the next thing I know … when you started to leave my room you grabbed the door …" Dean was assaulted by the memories of that moment. He blinked his eyes rapidly as if that would rid his mind of the images. "You collapsed and then the next thing I know you're taken into emergency surgery because you had a complication. You were bleeding in your brain and it was swelling. You were in a coma for a while, and then I moved you here."

"D… dad?" Sam looked at Dean.

"He was at the hospital while you were in the coma. But, you know dad he can't stay anywhere too long," Dean felt like he had to keep up the lie. He wouldn't tell Sam the truth about their father and that he had given up on him, and left. He stayed until you came to the rehab center."

"He hurt … in car?"

"You know dad Sammy," Dean assured. "He got banged up, but he bounced back. He was perfectly fine when he headed back out on the road." Dean smiled at his brother and decided to change the subject. "So," he began. "What's your next memory after everything is a blank?"

"You," Sam supplied softly.

"Me?"

"You fix sheet and smile." Dean remembered that day he had come in to visit Sam still flying high over the previous weeks improvement when Sam had begun to notice and engage his environment. He recalled tucking the sheet and blanket around Sam and talking to him about nothing special, and then looking down and seeing his brother looking at him, actually seeing him for the first time in months. Dean felt his throat tighten, and he turned his face abruptly. "Dean? What wrong?" Dean didn't know whether to feel happy or upset that Sam had no recollection of the events right before his collapse. Part of him had hoped Sam wouldn't remember the harsh words he hadn't meant, and the other part of him wished he did remember because he felt he shouldn't get off so easy.

"Nothings wrong, Sammy. Nothing at all," Dean no longer holding pretenses, leaned forward and grabbed Sam and pulled him against himself. "Everything is fine Sammy." Sam lifted his arms and returned the impromptu hug.

"Ch … fick," was all Sam could verbalize and the pronunciation was off, but Dean knew what he was saying.

"Is not," Dean chided. "That was definitely not a chick flick moment." He sat trying to put on his most serious face. Sam snorted a laugh. Dean broke into a smile. "I don't know what it was," he offered. "But, it was most definitely not a chick flick moment." Sam just continued to grin like a Cheshire cat. Dean rolled his eyes, "bitch."

"J… Jerk."

Dean stayed until Sam was asleep. He had wanted to stay with Sam tonight especially after the days turn of events, but when he mentioned to Sam that he wanted to stay. His brother had been adamant that he go to his place and get some sleep. Dean walked out into the parking lot, and as he drove out onto the main road. He drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly his fear for his brother not disappearing, but lessening a small fraction. Today had scared him more than he wanted to admit. And, the thought of losing Sammy after everything that has happened over the last few months made his stomach clench. He fought the feeling off, he'd be strong for his brother, and he'd push the overwhelming and paralyzing thoughts of losing Sammy, losing his light, out of his mind, at least for tonight he'd try, if not for his sake, for his little brother's.

**To Be Continued**

**Okay, another chapter down. How was that? I look forward to your reviews and comments. Like it? Hate it? I appreciate them all. Thanks in advance!**

**Read and Review.**


	12. Fences

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**Chapter Twelve**

**Fences**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_Spend all your time waiting for that second chance. For a break that would make it okay. There's always one reason to feel not good enough. And, it's hard at the end of the day I need some distraction, oh beautiful release. Memory seeps from my veins let me be empty, and weightless and maybe, I'll find some peace tonight…"_ Excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _Angel_

**Four Months Later**

**Burlington, Colorado, Red Horse Motel**

John Winchester sat at the table in his motel room finishing the cleaning of his final weapon. He had met up with six other fellow hunters to clear out a werewolf infestation outside the city. The hunt had managed to keep his mind off his boys, but now that he was alone in his motel room his mind filled with thoughts of them once again. He leaned forward and rested his face in his hands for a long moment. He sighed and leaned away from his hands and stared at his cell phone. There had been so many times he wanted to call Dean and just hear his son's voice and see how he was doing. He wanted to know about Sammy, but hearing what he believed he would, he just couldn't bring himself to call the rehab center to say either Sam had made no more improvements in their care or had been discharged to a long term care facility. Sam had been discharged from the hospital to the rehab center seven months ago, and John's mind reeled with the thoughts of what Dean has been dealing with while he went on hunts and stayed away unable to face Sam's situation.

And, he was certain that by now Dean would have had to find a state facility to take Sam, and part of him wanted desperately to know because he knew Dean would be devastated after finally admitting that Sammy was lost to them. He got up and turned on the clock radio in his room hoping that music would distract his mind for a bit. He clicked it on and a quiet ballad emitted from the speakers, and normally he would have changed the station to his preferred country music, but there was something that caught his ear, and he listened as the song played. His ears picking out certain parts and in some way he felt as if it were speaking to him, and maybe it was.

"…_From this dark cold hotel room, and the endlessness that you fear. You are pulled from the wreckage of your silent reverie … so tired of the straight line, and everywhere that you turn. There's vulture's and thieves at your back and a storm keeps on twisting. You keep on building the lie that you make up for all that you lack. It don't make no difference escaping one last time. It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh this glory and sadness that brings me to my knees … You're in the arms of the angel, may you find some comfort there …"_

The song ended and John reached a hand up and scrubbed away the wetness on his face. "Mary, what have I done? I left our boys alone. I left Dean to deal with Sammy on his own. I have failed you and our children." He voice broke with emotion as he spoke to an empty room. "I just couldn't see our baby boy like that Mary, our Sammy. And, Dean, he was so strong. He never wavered, but I did. I wasn't strong enough for my children." He sat heavily down on the bed next to the clock radio for a moment, and then just as quickly he rose up and began packing up his things. And, as he finished with the last item he scanned the room to make sure he had everything. "I'm going to do right by our boys Mary. I know I'll be the last person Dean wants to see, but I have to make things right again between the two of us, and I can't let Sammy go, I won't." He opened the door to leave, "I'm coming boys," he said under his breath as he walked toward his truck.

He still couldn't bring himself to call the rehab to see if Sam had been transferred, but he'd call Larry and discretely ask if Dean had taken a job at the shop. He knew Larry would keep the phone call private if he asked him to. After all, the man knew that he had had a bit of a falling out with his eldest child. He pulled the truck into traffic and headed for the interstate. He was headed back to Jefferson City, Missouri and his boys.

**Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge **

"Man, Sammy," Dean said as he walked out of his brother's bathroom drying his hands with a paper towel. "I can't believe Dr. Myer's said she's going to release you in two weeks."

"It's been seven months Dean. W…w… what did you think," Sam started. "I was gonna live here or s … s… some … thing?"

"Nah, you know what I mean Sammy," Dean countered. "It's just great that you're finally getting paroled," he joked. Sam chuckled.

"Well, it h…h…has…" he let out a frustrated sigh, and tried again. Dean waited with a warm smile. "it has… hasn't been like jail."

"Yeah, I know. I don't even like to think about where'd we be if we hadn't ended up here." Dean paused. "And, hey, I'm looking at some places today, now I may not find the perfect place today, but I'm looking. My place is way too small, and I can't have you come home to an apartment the size of a closet. I promise I'll have something by the time you're sprung, okay?"

"You d…d…don't have t…t…to." Sam replied. "Small is okay."

"Nah, Sammy. Trust me it's too small. We'll kill each other in there. Don't worry okay. I'm ready for a bigger place." Sam just nodded. He knew when it was pointless to try to get his brother to reconsider a decision once it had been made.

Sam looked at his brother. Dean had changed a lot over the last few months. His hair had grown out a little more; he apparently no longer felt the need to keep a clean almost military cut. His attitude was still completely Dean Winchester, the broad smile, the quick wit, but he had grown older, and Sam knew the added responsibility of his rehabilitation had pushed the older sibling into full adulthood. Sam felt as though Dean had given up too much for him, but he tried to work as hard as he could at his rehab because he could see how happy it made his brother. But, in truth he wanted to fight to regain his life, too. He still became frustrated at the language problems, but they were vastly improved from four months ago, and sometimes the words flowed with no difficulty. However, he hated that when he still got upset that his words would resort to broken sentences. He swung his legs over the side of his bed.

"You need help?" Dean moved quickly to his little brother's side.

"Dean," Sam's voice was ever patient with his coddling brother. "I've been doing this on my own now for two months. I have PT with Mel, and I walk to the gym."

"Yeah, I know," Dean relented. "It's just…"

"I know I still stum…ble now and again, but I can do it."

"I know." Dean replied. His eyes diverted from his brother's. Sam smiled at his big brother.

"You wanna walk with me to the gym?" Sam suggested. "I know you've got about ten minutes to kill before you meet April for lunch in the dining hall," Sam winked at Dean.

"Hey," Dean chided at the wink. "You're the one that's been pushing us to get together more often," Dean countered.

"You s..s..spend too much t…t…time with me," Sam inserted. "I want y…y…you to have f…f…fun."

Dean turned serious eyes to his brother's. He put a stopping hand on his brother's shoulder to prevent him from rising from his bed. "Hold up there cowboy," Dean's face serious. "You've been in rehab for seven months, Sammy. You're recovering from a head injury that nearly killed you. The time I have spent with you is because we're brothers, and you're my family." Dean studied Sam's face. "I don't want that head of yours to start getting any ideas…" Sam looked at Dean his eyes betraying him. "Yeah, you know what I mean little brother. No guilt trips, you got it? You'd do the same for me and you know it."

"B..but…" Sam began and Dean cut him off with a raised hand.

"No, don't but me," Dean replied. "You would do the same. And, as far as fun goes … I have fun, but things change you know …"

"You take care me. No life. I hate that. M …m…. my fault."

"Sammy," Dean knew his brother was upset if his speech was beginning to spiral down into fractured sentences.

"No," Sam forced himself off the bed, and Dean stepped back. "You work all the t…t…time, and t…t…take care of me. Not fair t …t…to you."

"Sammy, look man, I haven't done anything I haven't wanted to okay? You're not some kind of burden or obligation if that's what you're getting at. I have a life, and I do get together with April once and a while, but look I got my priorities little brother, and right now that's seeing you get out of this place and into your out patient rehab. And, yeah, I work; Sammy, but I actually like it." He grinned at his brother. "Never thought you'd hear me say that did ya?"

Sam relented and a lopsided grin broke across his face. "You're really okay?" Sam asked his warm eyes taking on the lethal puppy look.

"Yeah, kiddo. I'm good. Now, I don't want to have this conversation again, all right?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Sam started to leave his room to head to the rehab gym to meet Mel. "Hey, don't forget this." Dean offered as he handed Sam the three-prong cane they made him use since he still stumbled with his left side occasionally.

"I hate that thing."

"Yeah, well, you're not going to have to deal with it much longer. And, it's better than falling on your face."

"I d…d…don't even use it m…m…most of the time."

"Just humor me Sammy."

"Fine."

Dean and Sam walked together to the gym, and the older sibling saw his brother inside. "Hey Mel," Dean quipped.

"Hey yourself. Hi Sam!"

"Hi Mel." Sam smiled. He glanced at the large clock on the wall and turned to his brother. "You bet … better go," he encouraged. "A…Ap…April will be waiting." Dean rolled his eyes. Mel chuckled and stepped up to Dean lowering his voice.

"A little love in the afternoon, huh?" He said with a wily look in his eye.

"Damn, Mel," Dean feigned shock. "You're as bad as my geek brother. Give a guy a break. Blame this little get together on the match maker there," Dean said flipping a hand in his brother's direction. Sam just grinned, and ducked his head.

"Well, never keep a lady waiting," Mel countered with a grin. Dean made a grand motion of rolling his eyes in exasperation.

"I'm outta here," he replied. "Hey, Mel, you work him hard today."

"Not fair," Sam chided.

"Boys, boys," Mel reprimanded.

"Yeah, yeah," Dean said heading for the door. "I'll see ya later Sammy."

"B…b… bye, Dean."

**Interstate 70, a Gas Station Somewhere in Kansas**

It was a Friday afternoon, and John knew Larry would be at the shop. John finished pumping his gas and paying for it. He twisted the top off a bottled water and took a long drink. He pulled his cell out and dialed the number to the shop.

"Jefferson City Auto Repair," John recognized the voice.

"Hi Larry," he paused for a moment, "its John Winchester."

"Hey, John," the man replied. "Long time no hear. How are ya?"

"Fine. I'm on my way back to Missouri actually. I should be there by tomorrow late afternoon. I was wondering if my son Dean ever took the job at the shop?"

"Sure did. That boy of yours is a good worker, and he knows his way around an engine. Thanks for suggesting him."

"I'm glad it worked out. So, is he there now?"

"Dean? Nah, he works Monday through Thursday for me and takes Friday and the weekends off."

"Oh, yeah, do you know where he's living these days. I tried to find a number for him, but…"

"No, he uses his cell phone. But, yeah, he's got himself a place up in Elston; it's about ten minutes or so outside town."

"Has he…" John paused. It felt strange to have to question someone else about the well-being of his own child. "Has he been okay? I mean, we haven't spoken."

"Well, that kid of yours keeps pretty busy between working for me, and spending time with his brother."

"He spends a lot of time with his younger brother."

"Oh sure, every chance he gets which is everyday," Larry chuckled. "And, especially since your youngest starting moving around." John's chest tightened.

"Moving around? You mean he's making movements?" There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Man, John, you really don't know? You know it's none of my business, but whatever beef you and your eldest have with one another should be water under the bridge. Life's too short, man."

"I know," John agreed. "What about my youngest? What about Sam? You said he was moving? I mean, the doctors said, he wouldn't recover enough to do even that …"

"Well, Dean sings that kid's praises everyday. I guess he's a regular miracle or something. I don't mean he's moving, moving," Larry interjected. "I mean that son of yours is walking and talking." John was glad he hadn't pulled back onto the road yet; otherwise, he knew he would have swerved off the interstate and probably wrapped himself around a tree.

"Oh, God, he's talking?" John voice was ragged. "How long?"

"I guess about six months now. He started coming out of his coma around the third week he was in that fancy rehab. And, if memory serves, I think around the second month he was in there they started getting him to try and speak. But, now I guess he's a regular chatterbox according to Dean."

"And he's walking?"

"Well, now he is," Larry answered. "Wasn't easy though from what Dean told me when I asked. But, he's up and around now. Dean's been pretty excited the last few days ever since that doctor taking care of your youngest plans on releasing him in another couple weeks, I think." John felt his world tilt.

"Larry would you happen to have Dean's address?"

"Sure," he answered. "And, it's a good thing you're coming when you are because I know that boy of yours is looking at new places to live, so when Sam is released they have a place big enough."

"So, Dean's staying in Missouri?"

"Yeah, he said Sam still needs a year of out patient therapy, so he's not moving. You want that address?"

"Yeah, I got a pen," John opened his small pad of paper."

"Okay, it's 1020 Sparrow Dr. Apt 10B Elston. You go that?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"That place is only about five minutes from the rehab center, so if you get lost just go to the center. I'm positive that's where Dean is most likely, and you can see your youngest."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to be on egg shells Larry. You know proceed with caution."

"I heard that. Hey, do me a favor and don't tell Dean I gave you his address. He really is a good kid, and I hate to lose him here at the shop."

"I'll keep it between us Larry."

"Thanks. Hey, you going to be needin' another job?"

"Probably, but I need to clear it with Dean first. I don't want to force myself in his face everyday if he's not up for it."

"Yeah, I hear ya. Well, if worse comes to worse, I got a brother who manages his own garage out over by the airport. He'd take you on, so let me know."

"Thanks Larry." John finished his conversation with the man, and closed snapped his cell closed. He sat there staring straight ahead his mind racing from what he had heard. He had another call to make, and this number was programmed into the phone, although he'd only used it twice. It rang once.

"Good Afternoon, Ivy Ridge Rehab Care Center this is Carrie, how may I direct your call?"

"Dr. Rose Myers, please."

"And, whom should I say is calling?"

"John Winchester. My son Sam Winchester is a patient of hers."

"Thank you, please hold."

"Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Myer's spoke.

"Dr. Myers, I wanted to check on my son Sam," he decided to play dumb, and not tell the doctor what he had just learned from Larry.

"It's been a while Mr. Winchester. I'm glad you called. Sam's doing wonderfully. I plan to release him in a couple weeks."

"Release him? He's functioning?" He was fishing for information, but still didn't want to tell the doctor he already knew. "I mean how is that possible? The doctors at the hospital said he was severely brain damaged and had no chance of a meaningful recovery. They wanted me to put him in long term care …"

"I know all of this must be quite a shock Mr. Winchester, but I assure you that Sam is improving by leaps and bounds. I couldn't be more pleased with his progress. He's a hard worker toward his recovery. I'm well aware of what the doctor's diagnosed and sometimes even experts can get it wrong. I was never sure what level of recovery Sam could achieve, but I was always confident we could give him some quality of life, although I was never certain of the extent until Sam came out of his coma like state. But, one thing I was absolutely certain of was that a long term care facility was not the place for him, and that is why I accepted his case."

"He's walking and talking?"

"Yes, he has daily therapies that range from physical therapy, speech, and occupational therapy. He works very hard."

"Sam was always a determined kid when he put his mind to it. How's his speech?"

"Well, it has been a tough road, but he can carry on a conversation now. He still experiences some speech deficits, but he continues to improve."

"Is my other son Dean with him?"

"Well, he was earlier, but I believe I saw him walking through the lobby on his way out about an hour ago. I know he's being very proactive about finding a place big enough for himself and Sam to live."

"Is Sam okay, though? I mean, I know you said he's walking, but…"

"He gets around better every day. There are still some issues that he's trying to overcome. The left side of his body was more heavily affected by his brain injury, but he is making great strides to work through those issues. He walks to the gym every day for his PT rather than being taken by wheelchair. He's a trooper."

"No other problems?"

"Well, a handful of months ago, he developed a type of seizure disorder called a Jacksonian seizure…"

"Seizure disorder!" John barked. Dr. Myer's voice softened.

"Mr. Winchester, your son Dean had the same reaction back when it first started, but I assured him then and I will you that this is not life threatening." Dr. Myer's went on to explain about the small lesion on Sam's brain, and the jerking of his left arm and hand, and she told him about future potential for other seizures. "And, it has been a transient problem, and so far we haven't had to start him on anti-convulsive meds. The seizure's have been no longer than 2 to 3 minutes, and begin to slow on their own, and are usually gone in under 5 minutes."

"Why isn't he on meds to prevent them all together?"

"Sam didn't want to be unless the seizures advanced beyond the one limb. He rides them out. And, so far, I see no reason to start him on the meds unless the situation advances beyond his arm and hand."

"You mentioned other seizures … he hasn't had any has he?"

"Beyond the Jacksonian ones, no he hasn't."

"How frequent are the ones he's having?"

"Well, as I mentioned they are transient, but he has had about thirty separate episodes over the last few months."

"Thirty!"

"Mr. Winchester, I know it seems like a lot, but considering the nature of the seizures it isn't unheard of, and in fact I have had patients suffer much more severe forms of Jacksonian seizures and much more frequently than Sam. He's doing okay."

"Thank you for taking care of him Dr. Myer's your facility has done so much for my son."

"He's the one that has put forth the effort and Dean has been an excellent support system, as well. And, he's even excited about his occupational placement with the local library in Jefferson City."

"What? You mean he has a job?"

"Well, of sorts," Dr. Myers responded. "His social worker found him an occupational placement as a library helper three days a week and he'll be paid. Plus, it gets him out in real world situations. He'll be in out patient rehab for at least a year, and then he'll be re-evaluated at the end of the year by myself, and his therapists will determine if he needs further treatment at that point."

"Does my son Dean know all of this?"

"Of course, he's been in the decision process from the beginning." John sort of felt slapped by those words, but it was his own fault he hadn't been here for his boys. "The occupational placement was something Sam was excited about, but also, it allows Dean to continue working without leaving Sam alone at home. His library placement is Monday through Wednesday, and then he'll have his out patient rehab on Thursdays and Fridays. Sam will be with basically all day during his rehab days."

John spoke with Dr. Myers a bit longer, and then hung up. He had been on the road for a while now having pulled out of the gas station after rebounding from the enlightening conversation he had had with Larry. His mind was still having problems accepting the news about Sam. He had been so sure the doctors were right about Sam, and although he had started back to Missouri intent on helping his boys and had all ready accepted in his mind Sam was in the same state he'd left him. He had decided he was done running and it was time to be a father. But, now he had been given a gift, and Sammy was walking and talking, and not lost. He still had both his sons.

**Later that day, Ivy Ridge**

Dean walked into the center with some brochures in hand of some places he had looked at today in Jefferson City. He had considered his own complex, but there weren't any larger apartments available, so he had to branch out, and living in the city would be better for him because of the shop, and Sam's placement at the library. He still wasn't sure about the apartments he had looked at. It wasn't that they weren't nice, but he wanted more for Sam, a real home.

Dean rounded the corner into Sam's rehab wing glancing at his watch. He knew his brother would be done with his rehabs for the day by now, and would be in his room. He walked into Sam's room, and saw his brother sitting on the side if his bed with his back to the door. He was about to say hi when he noticed Sam holding his left arm loosely. And, then he saw the spasm happening in his hand and his arm jerking. He had seen it many times over the past handful of months, but it still bothered him. He walked around his brother's bed, "Hey, Sammy," his voice soft. But, when Sam looked up into his brother's eyes there were tears running down his cheeks. "Hey, hey," Dean reached out. "What's wrong, Sammy? This is old hat," he tried to calm him with an attempt at light humor. Sam shook his head.

"Won't stop," Sam's voice was a mix of anger and fear.

"What do you mean? You know they take about five minutes Sammy, it'll pass. It just seems like it goes on forever."

"No, too long." Sam pleaded. "Over t… t… ten minutes."

"Okay, Sammy," Dean soothed. "I'm going to go get someone. It's going to be all right." He was fighting the panic rising in his chest. He hated seeing Sam distressed. He walked out into the hall, and saw Kyle, Sam's evening care person. "Hey Kyle," he said walking with purpose.

"Hi Dean …" he stopped his greeting short looking at Dean's face. "Something wrong?"

"Could you page Dr. Myers? Sam's having one of his seizures, but it's not stopping."

"Sure," he said all ready activating the paging system to notify Dr. Myers. "Just try to have him relax," Kyle encouraged. "You know how much stronger the spasms get when he's upset." Dean nodded. "You need me in there?" Dean shook his head. "All right, Dr. Myers should be here in a minute."

"Thanks."

Dean walked back into the room, and Sam's agitation had only grown while he was out of the room, and the jerking had become more violent, and he could see Sam trying with difficulty to hold the jerking appendage. "Sammy, stop fighting it," he encouraged softly. "Dr. Myers will be here in a minute."

"Why not stop?" His brother's broken response was only another indicator to Dean proving how upset Sam was becoming.

"Sammy, you know it gets worse when you're upset, okay? So, just calm down."

Dr. Myers came into the room, "Hi Sam, I hear you're having a little longer than normal seizure today." She could see the flushed cheeks and hint of perspiration on the young man's face. "Hey, I thought we talked about this Sam … you weren't going to try fighting them. You can't. You've been doing really well with letting them come, and then they're done."

"I try. But not stop." She cast a glance at Dean, and he nodded. She knew Sam's broken speech was showing how upset he was. Kyle came into the room with a syringe.

"Here's the Dilantin injection, Dr. Myers."

"Thanks Kyle." She checked the syringe for the accurate amount, and pushed out some to insure there were no air bubbles. "Sam, because we got rid of your IV port I'm going to need to tie your arm off and inject it directly into a vein, okay?" Sam nodded. He bit his bottom lip, as she quickly tied the rubber tourniquet on his upper arm and patted for a vein on his non-shaking arm. Dean watched her swab the skin over the protruding vein, and slide the needle into his brother's arm. He watched will curiosity as she drew back a bit of blood into the syringe and then injected the drug. "There you go. Now, this doesn't work as quickly as the drug we used the last time, but this shouldn't make you groggy."

And, over the next couple minutes the jerking calmed to an occasional spasm of his hand, and then it was over.

"Thank you," Sam finally spoke. Dr. Myers smiled.

"It's okay Sam. That one was a little longer than the others, huh?"

"A lot."

"Sam we talked about how if they started to increase in length we'd discuss going on meds." Sam frowned. "Sam, it would be one pill, once a day, and if we're very lucky it may prevent any further break through seizures. You might not have to deal with this anymore or at least on a limited basis." Sam still wasn't sure.

"Can we think about it Dr. Myers?" Dean spoke up when Sam remained quiet.

"Sure." Dr. Myers decided she wouldn't mention the fact that the boy's father had called. She'd just wait to see if Dean ever asked. But, right now wouldn't be a good time anyway, so she let it go.

The room emptied out leaving only Dean and Sam. "You get your shower all ready?" Dean decided to change the subject. Sam nodded. "I didn't get that? Was that a yes?"

"Yes, after re…hab, I did."

"How was rehab? You had everything again today."

"It was f…f…fine."

"Good." Sam eyed the brochures that Dean had discarded in a chair.

"W…w…what are those?"

"Oh, yeah," Dean said with a smiled. "They're brochures from some apartment complexes I went to today. I still have more to look at though. Hey, when I was in town guess where I saw a sign for rent specials?"

"W…w…where?"

"Sunrise Apartments," Dean said with a mild chuckle.

"Not f…f…fun…ny, Dean."

"Oh, come on Sammy, its a little funny." Sam did grin slightly. But, in essence it just reminded him of the last time they were there to rescue their Dad, and the events that occurred in the cabin. Dean saw the far off look in Sam's eyes. "Sammy, you all right?"

"Yeah, just re…mem…ber last time there." Dean nodded. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why d…d…don't you t…t…talk about Dad?"

"Nothing to talk about Sam," he replied. "He's not here. He's off hunting."

"You're m…m…mad at him." It was a statement not a question.

"Sammy let's not do this okay?"

"Why?"

"Leave it alone. Dad's fine. You and me, we're good too, right?" Sam nodded. He had no idea what had happened between Dean and their dad, but he decided to let it drop for now.

**Later the next day, Jefferson City, Missouri**

John Winchester drove through the familiar city as he drove toward Elston. He had stopped at a motel earlier when he first arrived and checked into a room. He cleaned up and shaved. He wanted to be presentable for his boys. He was determined to work as hard as he had to at getting his family back. It was a Saturday and John knew Dean was off work. He made his way to Elston, and stopped at a local gas station to get directions to Sparrow Dr. When he pulled into the small complex he drove by the unit numbered 10B and saw no sign of the black Impala. He turned and left for the rehab. He pulled into the visitor parking area and saw no signs of the car there either. He parked his truck and proceeded inside. He took a deep calming breath before he approached the large contemporary looking visitor's desk.

"Hi, I'm Carrie. How can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my son Sam Winchester," he began. "I'm not sure where he's located." Carrie proceeded to look up on the computer.

"He's in 2 East, sir. Room 116." John offered her smile.

"Thank you," he replied. "Could you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure, just go down this hall, and make a left and you'll see a sign with an arrow for 2 East just follow the arrow and then 2 East will be up on your left."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

John walked into 2 East and the wing was bright, airy and branched into two sides. It was very nice and lacked the sterile smell of a hospital. He walked up to the unit desk clerk. "Hi, can I help you?"

"I hope so; I'm looking for room 116." The middle-aged woman behind the desk smiled.

"Sure down this hall about the tenth room down on the right. Sam's room is on the right?"

"Thanks," John was impressed she knew his son's name. "Learn all of the patient's names, huh?"

"It's my unit, and I like to know the residents. And, everyone loves Sam. He's a sweetheart." John genuinely smiled.

"Down this hall you say? On the right?"

"Yep, the numbers are above the doors." John nodded.

He walked down the hallway toward Sam's room. His heart slammed a staccato rhythm against his sternum. He glanced at the room numbers above the doors; he was at 109 and counting. A small petite nurse stopped in the middle of getting some ice for her patient's water dispenser. "Lost?"

"Room 116?" His voice was quiet, and unsure. He gave her a tentative smile.

"Sure, almost there," she replied. "Sam's room is just a few more down on the right. I could take you," she offered.

"No, I'm fine, but thank you."

"Okay, well, I know he's in there. He just finished with his afternoon PT about an hour ago."

"Thank you." The nurse smiled and nodded. "Is his brother with him?"

"Dean? No, he's running errands, but he'll be back later. He never misses a day, especially on the weekends." John nodded. He was quietly relieved that he didn't have to face both of his son's all at once. Although, he guessed that Dean was going to be the most difficult, and he couldn't help but smile at that … because all of Sam's life he had picked fight's with his father, and now John anticipated his youngest being the least likely to be resistant to his arrival.

He stood in the hall just a few feet from room 116, and his hands were shaking. He fisted them trying to quell his nerves at the thought of seeing Sammy again. He took a deep breath, and decided it was now or never, and he began a tentative step into the threshold of Sam's room.

**To Be Continued.**

**Reviews are appreciated. Let me know what you think! Thanks in advance!**


	13. Thorns

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Well, this chapter isn't as long as the last, but an update is an update, right? I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, thanks!

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Thorns**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_I wear my crown of thorns upon my liar's chair, full of broken thoughts I cannot repair, beneath the stains of time the feelings disappear, you are someone else, I am still right here …"_ Lyric excerpt by Johnny Cash, _Hurt_

John stood in the doorway to his baby son's room, and there was Sam. He was standing over by the bay window in his room looking out the window. John found himself remaining perfectly silent as he watched his son. Sam was standing on his own two feet, and it too John's breath away. It was now or never, "Sammy?" His was voice soft and gruff. He watched his son turn and noticed the unsteady gait of his son's left as he pivoted. John began to walk closer to his son, and stopped near the bed.

"D…d… dad!" Sam stood looking at his father, "You're h…h…here!" Sam took a step toward his father, and forgetting in his excitement that his legs didn't always want to work in unison, he stumbled as his left leg didn't follow suit with the right, and he began to fall. John rushed forward and caught Sam as his son pitched forward. He hadn't prepared himself as well as he thought at being told Sam had a speech deficit. He was Sammy, but the tall-tell signs of his brain injury still apparent in his walk and speech.

"I got ya," he soothed. "Here," he helped his son regain his balance. "Let me help you to the bed."

"Nah, D…d… dad, I got it. I'm o…o…o…kay." Sam assured. He studied his father for a long silent moment as he sat on the edge of his bed with his legs dangling over. "You look g…g… good," he offered suddenly. The youngest Winchester was simply too surprised to process the fact his father was standing in front of him, after seven months of being MIA. He had a lot to say, but the words just seemed to be frozen inside, along with a lot of questions. John grinned sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, it's amazing what a hot shower and a shave will do for you." He replied. "But, Sammy, look at you," his eyes gleaming with pride. Sam ducked his head, but John was awarded with something he knew he didn't deserve, a dimpled-lopsided grin from his youngest child. John held met his son's eyes and an unspoken request must have been readable in John's eyes because nodded ever so slightly, and John knew it was okay to hug his son. John stood in front of Sam and pulled his sitting son against him, and hugged him. "It's good to see you Sammy. Damn good."

John pulled away from Sam and stepped back surveying his child. "W…w…what?" Sam asked with trepidation.

"Nothing," John replied. "It's just…" he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Are you up for a walk? I mean, I saw some nice walking paths outside. I mean, can you? It's not too much is it? I'd like to talk to you about some things. Stuff that needs to be said" Sam felt both a need to have whatever conversation his father wanted to have because John Winchester didn't go for the heart to heart very often, almost never, but he was also afraid of the unknown implication behind the request to take a walk and talk.

"Not t…t… too fff…far, u…u…usual…ly go with D…D…Dean." Sam took a breath to slow his speech down; he didn't want to stutter anymore than he had to. He could see in his father's eyes that it bothered the man, made him uncomfortable. But, as hard as he tried to stop the feelings of anxiety slowing growing in him he knew what would soon follow; broken words and fragmented sentences. And whether John or Sam were ready for it Sam was about to have a speech meltdown. John felt the mood shift and could see Sam tense.

"Sammy, you okay?" Sam nodded not trusting his voice. John spotted the three-prong cane near his son's bed. "Should we take that with us?" He said as he walked over and got it for his son. Sam remained quiet. "Sam?" John put the cane down and watched his son. "Something wrong? Sam?" He felt a panic start to well up, "Sam, talk to me," his tone suddenly dropped an octave and switched into a drill sergeant tone, and he hadn't meant to, but that was all it took … Sam shattered.

"I want talk. W…w…words jump. You not like. I sss…see in yy…your fff…face." He took a shuddering breath. "Www…why not hhh…here bbb…befff…be…fore? Dean mmm….mad at yyy…you. Not ttt…tell me www…why."

"Sam calm down, son," John didn't know how to react. He didn't know what his son needed. And, he was scared shitless right now.

"No!" Sam shouted. "I want talk. I sss…see you ttt…think I'm ddd…dam…aged."

"No Sammy, it's just. I didn't know what to expect that's all. I spoke to the doctor the other day on the phone she told me how well you were doing. You're not damaged son," John tried to soothe his distraught child. "It's just that I thought … I mean , the doctor's at the hospital said …" John took a deep breath. _Damn I didn't want to do it this way_, he thought to himself. "They said you'd never recover. They said there was no hope. I shouldn't have believed them … I was a fool …" Sam interrupted.

"You llll…leave cause doc..tor say I nnn… not get bbb…bet…ter! You nnn…not want sss…son that ccc…can't hhh…hunt. You think bbb…broken." he looked at his father, and John saw his young son's eyes. They were both horrified and scared. "Nnn…now I kkk…know why Dean mmm…mad. He not ttt…tell me bbb…before."

"Sammy, please," John begged. He felt the situation spiraling out of control. "I'm not asking for forgiveness or even understanding. I don't deserve it, I don't." John saw Sam look at him, but he remained quiet. "I made an awful mistake leaving you boys all those months ago. I can't get that time back, I know that. I've been a lousy father to both you boys … I admit that. And, you deserve better, and I want to be that for you and Dean." John took in a long breath.

"I didn't leave because I thought you were broken and couldn't hunt Sammy. You're my son. I wasn't strong enough Sammy, to accept what the doctors were telling me. They said you needed to be in a facility that could care for you long term. They said you'd never walk or talk. That'd you never acknowledge your brother or me or be able to care for yourself. I couldn't stand by and watch you be anything less than Sam. I had hope. I kept it for weeks Sammy, but the doctors … their words finally broke me. I gave up. Everyday I sat by your bed and just saw the shell of the person that used to be my son. I'm the parent, I should have been stronger, but I wasn't. I gave in and made plans to have you transferred to a place, but Dean…" He saw Sam's eyes grow intense. "Dean never lost hope. He hated the doctors. He believed you could get better. He was right. I was so very wrong…"

"Sss…send ttt…to what ppp…place? Hhh…here?" John's eyes were sad, and he shook his head no.

"Not here," John offered, and saw that Sam wanted more. "That's why Dean is upset with me Sam. He's mad I left, but more because I believed the doctors, and I was going to have you placed in a facility that would care for you," he hesitated. "A long term care facility." Sam's eyes widened in abject horror at his father's words. He understood what _long term care_ meant.

"You www…want to sss…send mmm…me to an in…instit…institu…tion?"

"Sammy, you gotta understand the doctors said there was no hope, and that you'd never be accepted into a rehab because there was no chance for a meaningful recovery. But, they were wrong. I was wrong for losing faith. Look at you now," he encouraged. "It's a miracle. And, Dean he got you into this place."

"How here?" John's face became solemn.

"Because you wrote down Dean's name on your paperwork before you collapsed. You gave him authority to make your health and care decisions. And, once they knew that then Dean was the only one to make decisions for you. My plans to send you to a care facility were cancelled … Dean wouldn't permit it. Sam, I'm so sorry, that I lost faith. I was coming back to you and Dean when I found out about how well you were doing when I spoke to the doctor. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. But, I knew I had made a horrible mistake leaving you boys, and I was coming back to face whatever was waiting … even if you hadn't improved I was coming back to be your father and Dean's. Please, I just need you to hear me. Like I said I'm not asking for forgiveness, just another chance with you boys. To make things right."

"Nnn…not right. Not ever. You lll…leave cause my head hhh…hurt. You www…want ttt…to put me in a hhh…home fff…for veg…veget…ables, cause you think I www…was one." Sam voice was near hysterical as he fought the onslaught of the emotions rolling through him.

"Please, Sammy …" John pleaded.

"You sorry sonofabitch," Dean growled from the doorway. He had heard his brother's distraught voice down the hall as he approached, and then had heard his father. "What did you tell him?" He seethed as he blew by John to walk over to Sam. "Sammy, you okay?"

"You not ttt…tell me … he www…want me … in a hhh…home for veggies." Dean put a soothing hand on his brother's shoulder and turned blazing eyes to his father.

"You're a lousy sack of shit you know that? You had no right telling him that crap. He didn't need to know. He didn't need to know that his own father gave up on him. You're a selfish bastard you know that! What? You crawling back here lookin' for some kind of redemption because it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens, old man. You walked out on us, you walked out on Sammy seven months ago because you could hack it, so go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under and get the fuck out of our lives."

"Dean, wait just a goddamn minute." John hissed. "I told Sam I'm not here for forgiveness. I know I screwed up. I was on my way back anyway, Dean, and Sam being better was just an added bonus."

"What? You think suddenly because you decided to come back to us after seven months, and that even you thinking Sam was still the same as he was when you left that suddenly that makes you father of the year!"

"No, I never said that." John kept his voice level and tried to measure his next words carefully. "I want …" he paused knowing that wasn't the right approach. "I would like to have a second chance to make things right between the three of us. I want to be the father you boys deserve." Dean rolled his eyes.

"You're fuckin' delusional!" Dean barked. "Sam doesn't need you and I as sure as hell don't. Sammy is fine …" He was interrupted by his brother.

"Don't ttt…talk about mmm…me like I'm nnn…not hhh…here." Sam shouted.

"I'm sorry Sammy," Dean offered.

"Sam?" John started. Dean tensed at the sound of his brother's name coming from his father. The man didn't even deserve to say his little brother's name.

"No!" Sam shouted as he attempted to stand. He was angry, hurt and confused as he stood to face his father. A tingling feeling ran down his left arm that he recognized all too well as he stood, a seizure was coming, but this time something was different. "Dean?" The sound of his name sounded distant and Sam voice was scared, and Dean recognized the signs of what was about to happen.

"Sammy, here sit…" but before he could finish his sentence Sam's legs buckled and Dean caught him easily. The seizure started in his left hand traveling up his left arm and rapidly spread upward, soon Sam's left side of his body was seizing, and Dean felt panic. He cradled Sam loosely against himself as half of his body jerked. Tensing and releasing. Sam's neck would spasm throwing his head repeatedly into his brother's stomach as Dean sat on the floor cradling his brother across his lap. "Help!" he screamed. John watched in horror as he saw Sam seize. He snapped out of his moment of paralysis, and ran into the hall yelling for help.

"Help, my son's having a seizure!" The panic in Dean's face was more than enough to unsettle him, and he knew something wasn't right. The doctor had explained Sam's seizures to him on the phone in detail, and obviously things had changed.

"It's okay Sammy," Dean soothed, as he held his seizing brother. Sam's eyes were filled with fear, and Dean wanted nothing more than to take that fear away. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. We'll fix this."

"Helps coming," John panted as he ran back into the room. Dean turned up his face toward his father.

"This is your fault. You did this," he growled. "If anything happens to him … I'll kill you." And, in that moment John knew it wasn't a threat, but a solemn promise Dean would keep. He watched his oldest child turn his attentions back to his thrashing brother, and heard soft comforting words fall from Dean's lips as he held his brother.

**Four Hours Later**

John sat in the waiting area just down from Sam's room. Dean wouldn't leave Sam's side as he slept. He had been given an injection for his seizure, and had fallen asleep shortly after. Dr. Myer's had spoken to Dean and John separately since it was clear that Dean didn't want to see his father. John scrubbed a hand over his face as he blamed himself for the advanced seizure. The doctor had told him that Sam's emotional state might have likely caused the seizure to escalate, but also, perhaps, it was a natural progression since his most current seizure before this one had required medication to stop. Sam had been upset by the news from Dr. Myers that now he would be taking anti-convulsive medication, because the Jacksonian seizure had graduated to body involvement beyond the arm and hand.

John looked up from the floor when he heard footsteps approach stopping near him.

"Dean?" John was shocked to see his son standing there. "Is it your brother?"

"No," he said bluntly. "Why are you still here?"

"Because I want to make sure your brother is okay when he wakes up, and because I want to be here."

"Sammy would have been fine if you hadn't come back. You being here made him have that damn seizure. It's never been that bad. You're to blame. We don't want you here."

"I left Dean and that was a mistake. I should have stuck it out. I should have believed in your brother the way you did." Dean glared at his father, and John shut his mouth.

"You're preachin' to the choir." He lowered his tone to a hushed octave. "I don't give a rat's ass that you've finally figured out you fucked up. But, guess what dad? There aren't any do-overs. You can't take back what you tried to do … putting Sam in some god forsaken state run hole in the wall to rot. He needed you to be a father. He needed you to believe he still had potential. Dammit, it wasn't like I didn't see how he really was back then … I know he wasn't Sam, not when he was staring off, and didn't know I was there. I wasn't blind, dad. I saw it, but through it all, I saw what I needed to, I saw Sammy, my little brother, and that's all I needed. I believed in him, and even if the brain damage had been as severe as the doctors said it was … I still wouldn't have given up on Sam, not now, not ever. But you… you wanted to put him in that place and forget about him. And, even if he stayed the way he was for the rest of his life, Dad, he deserved better than that place." Dean had a fire in his eyes.

"I didn't want to forget about him, Dean," John offered. "I just knew we couldn't care for him on our own."

"Bullshit Dad," Dean hissed. "You said we'd visit, remember? You wanted to leave him there and the two of us to go back to hunting that evil bastard demon. You told me I would waste my life staying with Sammy. Remember!"

"I was wrong Dean. I wasn't thinking straight."

"Oh, sell that load of crap somewhere else because I'm all ready up to my eyeball's in the bullshit you're shoveling. You knew exactly what you were saying. Do you even realize what would have happened to Sam in a place like Meadowbrook? Do you? He would have had no stimulus, nothing. He would have been turned, fed and watered … like some kind of goddamned plant. He would have gotten worse been like that kid back at the hospital all because he had no constant stimulus, physical therapy in his bed, no human contact or people talking to him to draw him into the world. You were writing him off." Dean looked at his father and wanted so desperately to lash out at the man, but instead he just looked at the him and felt his hot anger seethe under the surface.

"Dean, please, listen to me …"

"No!" he hissed with venom. "You can't take back leaving me, leaving Sammy while he wasn't even completely out of his coma. You can't take back being a cowardly shit of a father and abandoning a son with a head injury and possible permanent brain damage. You don't deserve a family. You don't deserve me and especially not Sammy." John lowered his head and stared at the floor.

"You're right," he said quietly. Dean stood staring at the top of his father's head dumbfounded by what he thought he heard.

"What?"

"I said you're right," John offered. He looked up now and met his son's eyes. "You're right about it all." Dean saw the sincerity in his father's eyes, but right now all it did was make his skin crawl.

"I don't have time for this crap," he said turning back toward his brother's room. "Sam needs me, and I've wasted too much time talking to you all ready." Dean turned and left, he didn't want Sam to wake up to an empty room. John let him go, but he remained where he was. He knew he was in for a battle to get his son's back into his life, and he was in it for the long haul. Whatever Dean or Sam for that matter wanted to dish out he was going to take it because John Winchester had it coming to him, and also he thought to himself_, that was what a parent was supposed to do_ … no matter how bad things were going to get, and he knew they would, he wasn't going to back down, he wouldn't give up on his children, his family … not this time. John Winchester wasn't going anywhere.

**To Be Continued**

**I had come across a Supernatural VID on "youtube" that plays this song, but the link wouldn't post in this story, but if you want the link just PM me and I'll email it to you.**

**Thanks in advance for any review or comments you might have about this chapter! **

**I appreciate them. Read and Review!**


	14. Requiem

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

Side Note: The quote used was by Dodie Smith.

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Requiem**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_The family … that dear octopus from whose tentacles we never quite escape…"_

**Ivy Ridge, Later that Evening**

John sat down the hall from Sam's room. His mind was still trying to work out a solution to get his boys back. He had hoped that Sam would have been the bridge back to Dean, but when their conversation had gone so terribly wrong things went down the drain quickly, and that possibility seemed hopeless now. He got up and walked quietly down to Sam's room. He knew he was pushing his luck, but if he didn't keep pushing, he felt he'd lose his boys forever. Dean felt a presence and turned around in his chair by his brother's bed. His eyes met John's, but the older man stayed outside Sam's room. He saw Sam's head was lulled to the side and he was sound asleep. Dean glanced at his brother and got up approaching John. His voice was low as he walked out into the hall.

"I don't want you here," his voice was insistent.

"I just wanted to see how he's doing. Did he wake up yet?"

"You had seven months to ask how's he's doing and to check up on him. I asked the doctor how many times you'd called and she said twice Dad. Two times since Sam was admitted, and this newest call doesn't matter. She said you called before he came here and a couple days after he was admitted, and then nothing."

"Dean, son," John began. "Look, I know I made some mistakes. I screwed up. I've all ready admitted that."

"What? You want a cookie or something. Whoopee freakin' do, John Winchester admits he was wrong and that he's a screw up," Dean hissed keeping his voice quiet. It was late and most of the residents were asleep. "And, what, suddenly everything should be rainbows and sunshine, up yours!" Dean ground out.

"I didn't say that Dean. Look, I'm not going anywhere, all right. And, look here Mister all high and mighty have you bothered to tell your brother about the moments before he collapsed, huh? Have you told him what you said to him, how you treated him? I know he doesn't remember the doctor told me when I spoke to her earlier this evening, and I asked about Sam's memory. She said he has no recollection of the hospital after the wreck. Well, cat got your tongue?"

"You sonofabitch," he hissed. "Yeah, I screwed up, I admit that, and yeah, someday I'll tell Sam when it's safe to tell him. But, you come in here after bailing on us seven months ago, and tell Sam about Meadowbrook, and get him so upset that he has a seizure worse than any he has ever had in here. So… you sanctimonious piece of shit, did you tell Sam what you said to him at the hospital, huh?"

"I will," John offered. "When he's ready to hear it."

"Haven't you hurt him enough? Done enough damage? If you say or do one more thing that sets back his recovery I will make you pay. Dr. Myers all ready wants to keep him an additional week now because of that damn seizure, and see how he does on his medication. And, it's your entire fault."

"Dean, you may not believe this, but you boys are the best thing in my life. The most important thing."

"You can go sell crazy somewhere else Dad, we're all full up here," Dean said flipping his hand above his head indicating the level of being fed up he was.

"I…" John felt his mouth go dry, but he had to say it, after all, he meant what he was about to say. "I love you boys, both of you Dean. I know I've been a lousy Dad since your Mom passed. I know that I've let that damn demon become a priority and both you boys suffered for it. I know this. Look I'll give up looking for the damn thing, I will. I just want my boys back." Dean stood looking at his father considering his words, but the quiet sleep inflected voice of his brother calling his name pulled his mind from further consideration on his father's words. Dean quickly turned and went to his brother.

"I'm right here Sammy," Dean soothed. He reached up and pushed back his brother's bangs. John stood in the dim shadows outside the door and watched. Dean had changed over the long months. It was clear that he no longer withheld emotional bonding from Sam. Dean Winchester had let some of his stoic nature slip away. He decided to give his boys some privacy and stepped back. He went back to the sitting area to wait.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he answered quietly.

"Ddd…don't be mmm…mad," Sam replied.

"Mad? Sammy, you didn't do anything wrong kiddo. Why would I be mad?"

"Not that … I nnn…need," Sam took a breath. "I'm rrr…ready ttt…to talk. I www…want to ttt…talk to him."

"Who? Dad? Sammy, he upset you so bad you had a seizure. There's no way in hell I'm letting you talk to him. I don't even want him around you."

"Mmm…my choice," Sam said quietly. "Isn't it?" Dean sighed and looked at his brother. He scrubbed a hand over his weary face. He had been calling the shots for so long in Sam's life now. By not just being his brother, but his legal guardian while he was incapacitated that he'd forgotten that his brother was capable of making his own decisions now to a certain degree. It wasn't that he saw his brother as incompetent, but even Dr. Myers had said that cognitively Sam still had some delays, and it had just seemed a given that Dean made the important decisions, and until this moment Sam had never asserted himself.

"I don't like it, Sammy." Dean replied. "I don't want you hurt. He walked out on us, on you, you heard him. He even admitted it."

"I know he did. Sorry, yyy…you got sss…stuck dealing with all ttt…this."

"No, Sammy, I didn't mean for you to think I was stuck. I wasn't kiddo. Come hell or high water I wasn't going to go anywhere all those months ago. Dad staying or going meant nothing toward me staying with you. I wasn't stuck dealing with you Sam. You're my brother and you'd had done the same for me. Geez, I think this conversation is a broken record with us. You're not some responsibility I was saddled with, okay? See what being around that ass for just a short while has done to you. Damn him."

"I know… you … mad with him," Sam's sentences were fragmenting, but Dean knew at times it was just simpler for his little brother, and often helped with the stuttering to a degree. "I under…stand why. I'm mad ttt…too."

"Good," Dean answered satisfied. "You should be. What he did … a parent doesn't do, at least not one worth anything. He left Sam. He couldn't hack it."

"I know, but…"

"But, nothing Sammy! That bastard bailed on us, on you. You sound like you want to forgive him or something. Act like nothing happened. You seized today because he upset you so much. He was the reason your seizure escalated."

"Dean please," Sam began. "I'm mad about him www…wanting to ppp…put me in a home. But… I was in a coma …I didn't have to watch him ggg…go. You did. Dad, was always bbb…bigger than life ttt…to you. Me and him … we fight, always hhh…have. It diff…different for you." Dean shook his head.

"No, Sammy, you may have been in a coma, but you're awake now. You know what he did and where he wanted to put you. It's not different for me … it isn't."

"Hard…er for you Dean. You're lying ttt…to your…self if you say I'm nnn…not right. You fff…feel bbb…be…betrayed. Dad just ccc…couldn't handle it."

"He should have been able to handle anything Sammy. You're his son, and he should have been able to handle things no matter how hard they got. I did, for fuck's sake. I handled it. I sat with you, turned you, talked to you. Hell, I've shaved you when you needed it. And, when you could eat, I fed you until you could feed yourself. Dad, wasn't here for any of that. I was."

"I know you did those thh…things. I'm thh…thank…ful…" Dean cut his little brother off.

"No, Sammy, I don't want you thanking me for something that should be automatic. You take care of family. You do what you do because it's family. You're my little brother. There isn't anything I …" Dean turned his face away.

"I know … there isn't aaa…any…thing I www…wouldn't do for yyy…you either." Dean turned back and looked at his brother.

"I can't forgive and forget Sammy … I can't," Dean paused his eyes growing intense. "I won't." Sam nodded and gave Dean a knowing smile.

"Nnn…not asking yyy…you to. I under…stand. But…"

"But, you want to see the bastard and talk to him," Dean replied.

"Need ttt…to do this," Sam answered. "Alone." Dean leveled a look on is brother.

"Sam," his was voice serious. His little brother just looked at him with his big dark eyes, and he relented. "Fine," he grumbled. Sam put out a hand and placed it on his brother's forearm.

"You mad at me?"

"Nah, Sammy," Dean answered.

"I don't www…want to … hurt you." Sam's voice and eyes were so sincere that it made Dean ache inside. "I jjj…just have to … fff…fin…ish."

"I'm not hurt Sammy," Dean assured, although he felt a slight betrayal by the fact his brother still wanted to speak with their father after everything that had happened. "I don't understand why you need to talk to him, but if it's what you need to do," he replied. "Look Sam," Dean's voice trembled. "I did something I'm not proud of a few months back before your collapse. Maybe I'm just as bad as Dad. I…" He felt hot tears sting his eyes, but not fall. Sam smiled, and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"I know." Dean turned wide eyes to his brother.

"You know what Sammy?"

"I re … mem… ber seeing you in hos…pit…al. You were mad. Dad ttt…to."

"Oh, Jesus, Sammy," Dean was horrified. "I thought you said you were blank."

"I was, but it came bbb…back to mmm…me last www…week."

"Why didn't you say anything? I'm so sorry Sam. I know you have every right to be pissed, I …"

"Stop," Sam said with a smile. "I was mad fff…for about an hour, but I can't sss…stay mad. Dean, you stayed with me whole ttt…time. You ttt…took care of me. It's okay. How ccc…could I be mmm…mad? I not say any…thing bbb…be…cause there not any…thing to say. I not mad … ccc…couldn't be."

"Sammy, don't let me of the hook that easily. I screwed up. I said things I didn't mean. Hell, after I said them I didn't even know why I went off on you in the first place. I probably caused you to collapse."

"No!" Sam replied. "Not your fault. Head messed up. Would have hap…happen…ed anyway. No blame. It's ooo…over and done. The ppp…past."

Dean and Sam sat with one another a few more minutes, and it was plain to Dean that his little brother didn't care to talk about what happened months ago, and it was water under the bridge between them. Dean felt he deserved anger from his brother, but instead he was given absolution. "So," Dean broke the silence. "You want me to go get him? He's down the hall."

"Yes, ppp…please."

"All right, but its late Sammy, and you should be resting."

"Not a little kid," Sam's voice was annoyed, but he had spoken clearly.

"No, you're not," Dean relented. "But, you had a seizure today, and you've been medicated."

"I'm fff…fine."

Dean excused himself and went to get their father at Sam's request. John looked up as he heard someone approaching. He stood up as Dean walked up to him. "Is he okay? Something wrong?"

"Look," Dean began. "I don't like this, but he wants to see you."

"He does?" John felt hope flare in his chest.

"Yeah," Dean relented. "He needs his rest and I don't want you upsetting him." His eyes glared at his father intensely.

"I won't," John assured. He stood facing Dean feeling as if he needed permission to proceed down the hallway. Dean studied his father for a long moment. He let out a begrudged sigh and stepped aside unblocking his father from walking to Sam's room. John started toward the room and stopped. "You're not coming?"

"He asked to see you alone," Dean grumbled. "It's what he wants."

"I'll follow his lead Dean. I promise I won't upset him." Dean's only reply was a curt nod. He watched his father turn and walk down the hall, and as he disappeared into Sam's room he sat heavily down in the chair beside him. He felt half sick with anxiety. He wanted to be in there. He needed to be.

"Sammy?" John's voice was soft and tentative. He watched his son turn his head on his pillow and look at him. He could see his young son's tired features. "Son, maybe you should rest. We have plenty of time to talk."

"No, talk now," Sam said simply. John approached his bed. Sam eyed him, and he felt as though he was being measured up, and he guessed he probably was. "Sit down ttt…to hard ttt…to look up." John offered a soft smile.

"Yeah, right," he agreed. "Sorry," he gave his son a sheepish smile. He sat silent waiting for his youngest child to speak. And, Sam remained quiet. John decided to break the silence. "Sammy, I'm following your lead, okay? You want to talk, we'll talk. If you've changed your mind and don't want to do this now then that's okay, too. I'm not going anywhere, and when you're ready I will be too." Sam didn't know how to take this new John Winchester. This was a father he had never met before. He could see the sincerity in his father's eyes, hear it in his words, and it stirred something inside him he couldn't define. His eyebrows creased in thought for a moment, and John waited.

"Ccc…ch…" Sam let out a sigh and concentrated. "Chris..to." John looked at his young son perplexed not sure he had heard correctly.

"What?" John asked. "Son, it sounded like you said, _Christo_." Sam allowed a small smile to show at the edges of his mouth. And, then John understood, and smiled. "Man, have I been that bad that when I sound understanding or supportive to either of my boys you think I'm possessed. Of course, your brother had it right in the cabin, though." John paused not wanting to bring up that night unless Sam did. "Dammit, I've really screwed the pooch with you boys haven't I?"

"I'm angry." Sam's admission was quiet, but very clear. John nodded as he held his son's gaze.

"Well, you should be Sammy," John replied. "Hell, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to take a swing at me. Lord, knows your brother did." Sam turned wide eyes to his father. "Oh, not here … back when you were in the hospital. He clocked me a good one, but I had it coming. I would have punched me, too."

"I knn…know I ttt…talk funny," Sam began. John wanted to interrupt, but he could see he needed to let his son speak; however, he softened his eyes trying to let Sam know he didn't think that. Sam looked at his father, "let me fff…fin…ish," he said quickly sensing his father wanted to interject. "I get that it mmm…must have bbb…been hard when I was in a coma. But you leave. Dean stay. We're your chh…children you shh…should have stayed. You should have never www…wanted to ppp…put me in a home. Dean did every…thing, and you lll…left him ttt…to do it alone." John felt the impact of the words his baby son struggled so hard to say, and it felt like a kick to his solar plexus.

"Sam," John began when a long moment of silence filled the room after his son's last sentence. "What I did was inexcusable. I left you boys and I made a conscious decision to do it. You're right I should have never even considered putting you in a home or any place that wouldn't attempt to make your quality of life better. If I could turn back the clock … I would. But, you're brother was right when he said 'there are do-overs' at least not with this. I'm not asking for a clean slate … but I am asking for … hell, not even a second chance," John relented. "I'm probably on chance 1,000 by now, as much as I've screwed things up recently and over the years with you and your brother."

"You hurt Dean," Sam said quietly and suddenly.

"I know," John said with sad eyes. "I hurt you too, Sammy. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I thought a home was the best place for you … I was wrong, so very wrong. I thought Dean staying behind to stay with you was wrong. I thought he'd stay by you everyday for the rest of your life or his," John took a breath. "I even told him he was going to waste his life sitting by your bedside. I just thought the doctors were right, and I couldn't handle seeing him sit with you everyday waiting for a miracle that wasn't going to happen, but, it did, you woke up, and look at you. Maybe, I should stay away, but only if you and your brother want me to. But, I want you to know that I want to stay… work through things. If it takes the rest of my life Sam, I want to be your father again." John could see the hurt in his young son's eyes as he processed the confession of what John admitted to when he told him about his conversation in the hospital with Dean.

"I re…mem…ber what hap…pened in the hos…pit…al. You not want to see mm…me. You angry I not shh…shoot you. You told mmm…me ttt…to leave." John closed his eyes for a moment.

"I thought… the doctor said you didn't remember."

"Came bbb…back last week. I not tell. I know you and Dean said thh…things. I for…give that. But, whh…what hap…pened after … not sure … maybe forgive in time, but never forget."

"Sammy…"

"No, I hurt, but Dean more. You speak to him." John ached hearing his son's fractured speech. The doctor had told him when Sam's language skills backslid into fragmented and grammatically incorrect sentences he was usually in distress. But, Sam appeared to be okay. John watched him for any sign of another seizure.

"Son, your brother is extremely angry with me, and speaking to me is the last thing he wants to do right now. It's complicated."

"Dean wor…shipped you. He think what you did a be…tray…al to him and me. You hurt him when you leave. He not ad…mit, but I know. Dean wants a family," Sam spoke with concentration. "He said so in Chi…ca…go. He said he wan…ted the three of us to…ghe..ther again. It im…por…tant to him." John let his young son's words sink in and resonate with him.

"He really said that?"

"Yes." Sam replied quietly.

Dean paced back and forth in the small lounge area. He kept watching the hall and looking to see when his father would leave. He looked at his watch and let out a frustrated sigh. His Dad had been in there with Sam for almost 45 minutes. "Dammit," he grumbled quietly to himself.

"Ddd…dad?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Talk to hhh…him before ttt…too late."

"I think it all ready may be son. I don't think Dean will ever look at me the same way again even if we do start over. Sammy, don't misunderstand me, but after what happened today … why are you talking to me? I don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth, but…" John didn't finish.

"I'm mad and hurt. But, Dean mat…ter more to me. He need things ttt…to be okay with you even if he ccc…can't see that. Get him. I talk to him and then he'll talk to you."

"Sam, I don't think your brother's going to appreciate you playing the little brother card to make him talk to me. He should do it on his own … when he's ready."

"Dean, never be ready. Stub…born like all Win…ches…ters."

"You have a point."

"Go," Sam motioned to the door. Sam watched his father leave. His mind filled with a hundred different thoughts and emotions. He had been truthful, he was mad and hurt, but Dean mattered more. He knew that it would slowly kill Dean in some deep unspoken way if things were never set right between his older brother and father. He knew his dad had let Dean down in a big way. Shattered his idea of the man he thought he was. Maybe, it wasn't so hard for Sam, he thought to himself, because he had never put their father on a pedestal like Dean had. Sam had always been contrary by nature when dealing with their father, but Dean … he had always been the good son, the good soldier.

Dean turned from the window as his father approached. "Is Sam all right?"

"Yes," John assured. "He asked me to come get you. He wants to see you."

"You better not have upset him," Dean warned as he pushed past John. The elder Winchester watched his firstborn walk to Sam's room. He shook his head slightly. He knew Sam would have his work cut out for him, and he still idly wondered how he had somehow managed to get in Sam's good graces enough that he wanted to help mend fences. He knew Sam was worried about Dean, and even if his baby son was profoundly hurt by the events of the last few months he would put all aside for his big brother. Dean walked into the room and his eyes immediately trying to adjust to the dim lighting. "You okay Sammy?" he asked as he walked with purpose to his brother's side.

"I'm fff…fine Dean."

"You sure? Cause if he said something…"

"Dean, it's okay. I www…want to ttt…talk to you."

"About?"

"Dad," Sam answered simply.

"Nothing to talk about," Dean countered. "Unless he said or did something to you … there's nothing to talk about." Dean looked away from his brother.

"Dean, please…" and there it was and Dean knew he'd break. He looked at his brother and saw the desperate need in his little brother's dark eyes.

"Fine," he relented. "What is it?"

Sam took a calming breath… he was going to make every word come out right or at least try. "I want you to talk to dad. Try to make up." Sam saw the shocked looked cross his brother's face. "No, listen… he knn…knows he was wrong. I tell him I'm mad and hurt, but Dean… you are too. Please try…" and Sam could see the stubborn set to his brother's jaw and could clearly see the muscles of his jaw twitch, so he decided to bring out the big guns. "Dean, please, ddd..do for me. Make work. Try, please. Talk to him."

"Sammy, do you know what you're asking? I can't forgive him … I won't."

"Not ask…ing to forgive or forget," Sam paused. "Just try …"

"Just try what Sam!"

"Be a fam…ily." Sam struggled with the word _family_.

"A family? You know maybe I oughta page Dr. Myers because I think that seizure today knocked something loose. Maybe killed a few brain cells." Sam looked at Dean. "Family? The only family I see here is you and me Sammy."

"You say in Chi…ca…go you want us three to…ghe…ther again. We can be."

"Do you even remember what you said to me then Sam? You said we are a family, but that you didn't want us to be together like before."

"Thh…things change. Diff…erent now." Sam's eyes were sad for a moment and Dean saw the hurt of realization shift across his brother's young face. He felt like an ass for hurting his brother with his words.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean tried to smooth things over. He kept his voice soft. "I didn't mean anything by that okay. And, yeah, things are different right now, but you're improving all the time."

"I know," Sam agreed. "But, want you to try."

"I don't trust him Sam," Dean answered bluntly. "He'll just bail again."

"Maybe nnn…not" Sam replied. "I think he wants ttt…to bbb…be here. Give chance."

"Dammit, you're like a dog with a bone. I'm not going to keep my mouth shut. If I got something to say or he steps out of line … I'm laying into him."

"Not ask…ing for mir…acles," Sam said with a smile. "Just to try."

"I still don't get why you're letting him off the hook."

"Not," Sam replied. "He knows I'm mad and hurt, but sss…still www…want ttt…to try. Make work."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "It's late Sammy. You need your rest."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?" he answered with a tired sigh.

"Maybe live to…ghether. Rent house?" Dean turned to his brother with an exasperated look.

"Ah, hell no," Dean hissed quietly. "No way. Not gonna happen."

"Dean, it's cheaper. Rent a house not apart…ment."

"Sammy, I can provide for us. I told you I'd find a place, and I will."

"I know," Sam agreed. "It can work."

"What? Dad in my face everyday, no way."

"He knows you need space. Can save mon…ey if not all go to rent. Spilt with Ddd…dad."

Sam and Dean went round and round over the issue, and finally Dean relented. He was sick to his stomach over the prospect of sharing a roof with his father, but it seemed important to Sam, why he had no clue. But, upsetting his brother wasn't something he wanted to do, so he'd bite the bullet for Sammy.

"Fine," he grumbled. "But, don't expect me to kiss his ass. I don't like this … just so you know that I'm doing this for you Sammy. Don't expect the Brady bunch. I can hardly stand the sight of the man."

"Thanks," Sam said with a lopsided smile. "Now, talk to him." Dean rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine, but not unless you agree to get some sleep."

"Okay," Sam gave in to his brother's request. "Go, talk. I promise to sll…sleep." Sam closed his eyes to reiterate the fact he intended to sleep.

John saw Dean come out of the room and he stood up as his son approached. "Sammy okay?"

"Yeah," Dean groused. "Look…this isn't my idea, okay? He wants us to talk. I got nothing to say. I don't trust you dad not after what you pulled." Dean stared at his father.

"I know," John countered.

"You'll bail again it's just a matter of time," Dean's eyes were intense. "Sammy just can't see that … or maybe can't accept it."

"I know you've got no reason to believe that I won't leave again Dean, but I'm not leaving you boys. I'm staying here. I won't bail…" Dean interrupted his father.

"Yeah, well, if the next words out of your mouth are _I promise_, I think I'll hurl."

"I could promise Dean, but it wouldn't mean anything to you. Actions speak louder. I'm here to stay."

"Yeah, and what happens if things get rough, huh? I mean, god forbid, Sam develops other seizure disorders and is in and out of the hospital. I mean, you have no clue what other problems he could face. The first sign of trouble you're going to hit the road."

"I've spoken to the doctor and she has told me what he could face. And, no matter what Dean I'm not leaving. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I can prove it to you by staying. I'm not leaving."

"Whatever," Dean complained under his breath. "Look, this isn't what I want, but it's important to Sam, and after everything he's been through I can't say no. He wants us to split rent with you on a place. He wants a house." John thought his head would explode when he heard those words. Sam had pulled off a bona fide miracle.

"Okay," he was at a loss for words. "How do you want to do this?" He'd follow his son's lead.

"I don't, but like I said for Sam I'll deal. I'll find a place … alone," Dean added quickly he didn't want to go around town with his father. "You getting a job?"

"Well, I wanted to clear it with you first," John spoke. "I could get my old job back or Larry's brother has a shop over by the airport that I could get full-time employment at, and just like Larry it carries health benefits. I could put Sammy on my policy." John offered knowing that Sam would need the coverage.

"Take the airport job." John wasn't going to push his luck. After all, he was going to be living under the same roof as his son's and that was more than he could have hoped for at least so soon. "And, Sammy doesn't need your coverage," Dean countered with a little venom in his voice. "Ivy Ridge doesn't charge him anything and won't … not even for his out patient rehab. And, his social worker found some funding for me to help with any medical expenses outside the rehab. And, I've got him as a dependant on my policy as back up."

"Dependant?" It struck John for the first time that the outside world viewed Sam as different since his brain injury.

"Yeah, well, Sam doesn't know," Dean's eyes were serious. "And he doesn't need to know he's listed as a dependant. I told him I was able to get him on my insurance, and he never asked how or why. It's just with some of his cognitive delays they …" his voice trailed off. He didn't like labels for Sam … he was Sammy. He walks and talks. He has the same sense of humor. He was Sam to him and nothing a medical professional or governmental busy body classified him as would define his little brother to him.

"They what?" John asked softly. Dean's hard eyes softened for a moment, and then blazed again.

"They define him as cognitively delayed, okay? Like … handicapped, but I don't want you to ever say anything to him. I know he may find out some time, but he doesn't need to know. He's had enough shit to deal with, and anyway, I'll be damned I ever let him think he's handicapped. He's getting better every day."

"Dean, I would never. And, anyway, I don't care what they're saying … he isn't that at all. He's a smart boy, he always was … still is," he added with a gentle smile.

"Look," Dean spoke suddenly. "I'm all talked out. I just want to stay with Sam tonight, and put this day behind me."

"I'll go back to my motel in Jefferson, okay? Would it be okay if I come back tomorrow afternoon? I want to set up my job first, and then spend some time with Sammy." John decided he wanted to quickly lay as much ground work as he could to show Dean he was sticking around. He had to show Dean he could count on him, and he didn't care how long it took.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean groused. "Tomorrow's Sunday, Sam has a full day of PT and other therapy. He'll be busy most of the day."

"Well, I'm willing to wait."

"I gotta find some rentals tomorrow … I don't know …" Dean hated the idea of his father being alone with his brother.

"Dean, you can trust me with him," John assured. "I won't upset him. If we're going to make this work for …." John paused. "For Sam's sake," he figured that was the only way Dean would relent then he'd use it.

"Yeah, fine," Dean complained.

"Dean," John spoke before his son could turn to head off to Sam's room.

"What?"

"Maybe, if you speak to a local realtor they can point you to some house rentals." John thought the suggestion would help Dean in his search, plus, shows he did have a vested interest in staying. Dean acknowledged him with a quick nod.

"Hey," Dean's voice was quiet. "You want to see him before you go? He's probably asleep, but he'll want to know if you said goodnight or something." John smiled and nodded. It was a huge olive branch, and John was grabbing it. They walked into Sam's room quietly and sure enough the younger Winchester had succumbed to sleep and had curled onto his side and was sleeping peacefully. John walked over quietly and bent over his son. He gently ran a hand over his son's tousled dark locks, and he stirred ever so slightly. Dean watched his father with Sam very intently, and he wondered if this new tenderer John Winchester would disappear within in a few weeks. Dean would be watching, and the moment the man drops the ball he was going to kick him to the curb. And, deal with Sammy after the fact.

"Shh… Sammy," John cooed and his son stilled under his touch. He bent down and kissed the top of his son's head. "Night, Sammy. Sweet dreams," he whispered. He stood up and nodded at Dean. "Night, son." Dean looked hard at his father, but relented only slightly.

"Night."

John Winchester walked across the parking lot feeling the tiniest flicker of hope, and he had Sam to thank for all of it. John still was amazed at the turn of events tonight, but could only manage to feel profound thankfulness for the open door his baby son had offered him. He was going to make this work. His mind went back to Sam's room and knew right about now Dean was probably saying goodnight to his little brother as he went to bed in the sleeping chair he'd noticed earlier in the corner of the room. Tomorrow was going to be the first day of a new beginning or so he hoped, at least.

Time would tell.

**To Be Continued**

**Thanks for all of the reviews for chapters 1 through 13. I hope to hear from you for chapter 14. Let me know what you think. Thanks!**

**Read and Review! **


	15. Possibility of Being

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Possibility of Being**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_I was looking back on my life and all the things I've done to me. I'm still looking for the answers. I'm still searching for the key …" _Lyric excerpt by Ozzy Osbourne, _Road to Nowhere_

**One Month Later, Early October **

Dean shuffled around the kitchen making coffee. The last month had been a major adjustment living with his father once again, and Sam was home now, too. The house he had found to rent was two blocks away from the library Sam had his occupational placement at three days a week. Sam had wanted to walk there as much as possible. Dean remembered he had walked him the first couple times, but Sam had complained and said he wasn't five and this wasn't the first day of kindergarten. He had changed his hours slightly at the garage, so that he was still home when Sam left for the library. The weather had turned cold three weeks ago, and was rainy. The cold dampness in the air had a real bite that Dean hated. He was still trying to shake a case of bronchitis he had come down with a week and half ago. He had picked a family doctor for himself and Sam since it wasn't feasible to get regular health care from an ER. And, the cough medicine he had been prescribed wasn't really helping anymore, but he hadn't taken a few days off to rest like the doctor had said to either. He coughed into his hand as he poured a cup of coffee.

"That cough sounds pretty tight, Dean," John suggested as he walked into the kitchen. For John living in the house with his boys … especially Dean was like walking in a mine field. He had to place his steps very carefully, but without fail he always seemed to say the wrong thing. Perhaps, not so much because it was wrong, but just unwanted.

"I got it handled." John watched his son sit down at the kitchen table. It had been a garage sale find and was in good shape, but most of all it had been cheap. Dean was all ready dressed in his blue mechanic jumpsuit for the garage.

"Yeah, I know you got it handled," John replied. "It's just your chest sounds pretty tight … maybe … you should take a sick day. I know Larry wouldn't mind. And, your cheeks are flushed."

"I'm fine," Dean groused. He changed the subject. "It's too cold for Sammy to walk to the library today can you drop him off? I got to be at work earlier today and can't drop him myself."

"Yeah, sure no problem," John answered. John's schedule was usually much earlier than even Dean's, but today he had flipped hours with a guy who had a family thing at one of his kid's schools. John had taken the job with Larry's brother, Dan who owned his own shop on the other side of town near the airport. His usual hours started at six in the morning, and he was usually home by 3:30, and was always there to meet Sam when he came home or to pick him up. Sam had given both men the silent treatment when they had asked him to stay at the library until he could be picked up when he finished working because they didn't want him coming home to an empty house.

Now, Sam had quickly equated that to _we don't want you to come home to an unsupervised house_, and Sam quickly pointed out that he was an adult, and not some little kid. Sam already hated the fact that he had to where a medical alert bracelet that said he had a seizure disorder. Dean and John had both relented and allowed him to walk home alone, but he had to call them when he was leaving the library and when he got home. John remembered the day it was his turn to have phone duty, which meant it was his week to be Sam's check-in person, and his mind recalled the day Sam had decided to be defiant and not call at all. John had checked his watch knowing that Sam finished his work at the library at 3:30, and his watch said it was 4:00.

He had called the library and spoke to Sam's supervisor the head librarian that managed that branch. And, when she had said he left at 3:30 John had called his son's cell and only got his voice mail. He had called home, and got no response … not even when he issued an order to pick up the phone on the answering machine. He remembered the cold panic that had suddenly filled his chest, had something grabbed his son, had he been hurt, or was he lying on the floor at home unconscious or dying from some new seizure. He had flown out of work that day simply saying something was wrong at home. He had burst in the back door running through the kitchen yelling Sam's name only to discover his son sitting neat as you please on the couch with one leg tucked under his butt eating a handful of chips. That was the day he finally dropped the eggshell routine with Sam, and had yelled at him.

The incident never repeated itself, and John guessed it was because Sam had seen the raw fear in his father's eyes as he burst into the room that day, and knew his action of defiance had been childish.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered as his brother came into the kitchen.

"You lll…look sicker. You should sss…stay home."

"No can do kiddo. I have two brake jobs on my docket today, and a transmission to work on. Look Sammy, I'm having Dad drop you at the library today, okay?"

"No, I want to walk."

"Sam, look at the weather man. It's cold and rainy. You don't need to get sick."

"I wear my jack…et with hood." Dean just leveled a look on his brother. His little brother had not lost his stubborn streak since coming out of the coma all those months ago. It hadn't been quite a year yet … since that fateful night with the demon and the car wreck.

"Sammy, you're brother is right. The weather is nasty today and you've got no business walking two blocks in it to work." John liked to call it work because he could see the glint Sam got in his eye when he said that word and his son was paid for his time. Sam only worked there three days a week from 9:00 to 3:30, but he enjoyed being around the books and helping out. John wondered if Sam missed school, but he seemed content with his occupational placement and doing his out-patient rehab.

"What…ever," Sam complained with a crestfallen look on his face.

"Sammy, you got your med-alert on?" Dean asked as he tried to spot the silver bracelet. Sam would try to leave without it, but Dean and John had become very vigilant about making sure he wore it … just in case he had an episode. The medication had been doing a good job at preventing any additional break through seizures. "How about your pill … did you take it?"

"Yes," Sam hissed his answer. He also flicked his arm at Dean to reveal his med-alert bracelet.

"That's my boy," Dean smiled. Sam just rolled his eyes and sat down for some cereal.

**Later that Morning, Jefferson City Auto Repair**

Dean sat by a wheel well filing down a metallic buildup on a rotor caliper on a tiny import car. He felt horrible, and hated to admit that his father and brother were right he should have taken the day off. Hell, it wasn't like he didn't have sick days earned at his job. He just seemed to save them in the event something happened to Sam and he needed to be with his brother. He felt hot, and like he was trying to breathe through a wet cheese cloth.

"Hey Dean," Larry said as he walked into the part of the garage Dean was working in. "Geez, you look like road kill."

"I'm good," was Dean's slightly raspy response. A coughing fit racked him and it felt like his chest was exploding.

"Doesn't sound like it," Larry studied Dean's pale features, and flushed cheeks. "I think you should call it a day Dean. Take some time off. You've been sick almost a couple weeks now. No sense you running yourself into the ground." Dean stood up from his seated position and suddenly realized that was the wrong choice. The room spun, and he put his hand on the car to steady himself. "Yeah, you need to go home, or maybe go back to the doctor kiddo."

Dean coughed again, but this time getting air back into his lungs seemed a lot harder after he coughed. The feeling scared him. He fought to draw the air in and tight wheeze could be heard. "Riley," Larry shouted as he helped Dean sit on the nearest stool. "Call 911!" Dean fought for his air like a drowning man as Larry kept a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"I got them on the phone," Riley shouted. "An ambulance is on the way. They want to know what's wrong."

"Tell them he's having a lot of trouble breathing." Larry could see the ashen complexion beginning to show around Dean's eyes, and the corners of his mouth were slightly blue as he fought to drag in a good breath. He noticed Dean's fingernails, "Christ," he hissed. "Tell them his fingernails are a little blue."

When the paramedics arrived Dean was lying on the ground with Larry kneeling by him and the other men in the shop standing nearby. Dean was slipping in and out of consciousness as his battle to breathe was failing quickly.

"What's his name?"

"Dean," Larry answered. "Dean Winchester. He had a chest cold this last week or so, and now this happened. Feels hot, I'm pretty sure he's got a fever."

"Dean, I'm Mark. Dean, open your eyes," the paramedic spoke as he and his partner opened Dean's jump suit, and pulled his t-shirt up and cut it open. They placed electrodes to his chest to monitor his heart, and a pulse-ox clip to a finger to get his oxygen levels. Dean opened his eyes, as he attempted one last tight breath and his head lulled to the side. He was unconscious. "Dammit, he's out," Mark barked to Louise his partner.

"O2 levels are at 89." Louise replied. Mark listened to Dean's chest.

"He's not moving any air. We gotta intubate." Mark took the metal tongue blade and slid it into Dean's mouth. "Jesus, I can't see the anatomy markers … he's swollen. Get me the fiber optic intubation kit."

"I'm on it," Louise replied as she sprinted to the ambulance. Mark began trying to ventilate Dean with an ambu bag while he kept track of the falling oxygen numbers. _This guy needs oxygen, now!_ His mind was shouting. Louise ran back with the kit. Mark threaded the fiber optic scope through the swollen tissue, and got a clear view of what he needed to see and threaded the intubation tube down Dean's throat.

"I'm in," he shouted as he secured the tube with medical tape. He squeezed the bag attached to the tube, and Louise nodded as she checked for breath sounds in Dean's lungs.

"Placement is golden. Equal breath sounds on both sides … oxygen levels are coming up."

"Good, let's get him loaded and roll."

"Hey, what hospital?" Larry asked. "I gotta call his dad."

"Capitol Region Medical Center. Tell him to go to the ER main desk." Mark answered while he continued ventilating Dean as they rolled him toward the waiting ambulance. Larry nodded and the doors to the ambulance slammed closed and the siren wailed as it pulled out of the lot. Larry went straight to his phone in his office.

"Pro Care Auto," answered a voice over the phone Larry recognized as his brothers.

"Dan? It's me. I need to speak with John. His son Dean was just taken to the hospital."

"Oh man, accident at work?"

"No, he's sick … couldn't breathe."

"Let me get him." Dan put the phone line on hold and ran to get John. "John," Dan spoke as he walked into the back of the garage where John and Craig were doing an engine rebuild.

"Yeah," John answered casually as he leaned back from the car. His senses immediately on alert at the sight of the man's tense features … something was wrong.

"Yeah, they just took your kid to the hospital. Larry's on the phone for you."

"What? Sam? Why's Larry calling?" John felt panic, _god how bad could it be that Dean couldn't call to tell me, and Larry was doing it?_ The question repeated in John's head.

"No, man, it's Dean." John took off running to the phone. He snatched it up as he hit the hold button to release the line.

"Larry," John barked. "What happened? Where did they take him?"

"John, he couldn't breathe. They had to put a tube down his throat," Larry's nerves were on edge and he knew he wasn't being very tactful in telling John what had happened. "They said they were taking him to Capitol Region, and to go to the ER main desk." John's heart was hammering against his ribs.

"Thanks Larry." John hung up and cast a glance at Dan.

"Go, John don't worry about anything. Just call when you can and let me know how things are, okay?"

"Thanks Dan." John glanced at his watch it was a little after 11:00 in the morning, and he knew Sam was still at the library. He'd let him stay there until he knew more about Dean.

**Capitol Region Medical Center, ER Main Lobby**

John rushed into the ER. Traffic had been heavy and it took him almost twenty minutes to get to the hospital and another ten to park in the busy visitor parking lot. He strode up to the ER main desk, "I got a call … my son was brought in by ambulance about a half hour ago … Dean Winchester."

"Let me look," a young woman answered. "Yes, Mr. Winchester, your son is in trauma one right now with the doctor still. His attending physician is Dr. Riggs. Could you have a seat over there and as soon as they know something … someone will be out to speak with you. I'll let them know you're here." John wanted to blow past the desk and go straight back there to see his son, but he'd wait. He sat with his hands folded in his lap while his leg nervously bounced up and own. His mind repeating what Larry had said _he couldn't breathe … they had to put a tube down his throat_ … John knew that meant that Dean had most likely stopped breathing all together. _Dammit, I knew he sounded bad this morning. I should have forced the issue_, he berated himself mentally.

**Thirty Minutes Later**

John saw a doctor that looked like he was in his early thirties walked toward the waiting area with a clip board. "Family of Dean Winchester."

"I'm his father. How is my son?"

"Here," the doctor pointed to an empty set of chairs away from the hustle and bustle of the ER. The doctor took a seat and John followed suit. "Your son arrived to us in respiratory failure. The paramedics were able to reestablish ventilation by intubating him with a breathing tube. He was initially unconscious when he arrived, but as his oxygen levels came back up he did wake up, however, he was fighting the breathing tube, so we have had to sedate him. He has a fever of 102, but we are managing that with fluids and some fever reducers."

"But, how is he? He was getting over bronchitis from over a week ago … what happened? I know his cough sounded tight this morning." John wanted answers quicker than he was getting them.

"Well, your son has himself a nasty case of pneumonia. His bronchitis was the catalyst to the pneumonia. Unfortunately, he has what in lay terms is called double pneumonia. He has consolidations in both of his lungs, and he was having to work too hard to get air in and out. We have put him on a ventilator in order to give his lungs a break. I plan on keeping him sedated for at least another 24 to 48 hours to give his body a chance to simply just rest. The tests show that he has what we call a staphylococcal variant of pneumonia. I have started him on an IV antibiotic called Oxacillin, and it should do the trick." The doctor paused gauging John's demeanor and continued when the boy's father did not interrupt.

"The antibiotics should have a chance to get a foot hold while he is sedated and his body is at rest. He's going to be moved up to ICU in a few minutes as soon as they have a bed prepared for him. I plan on keeping him there until we wean him off the ventilator. I'll probably keep him on the vent for 2 to 4 days, but we'll play it by ear. I suspect your son will be here for at least a minimum of 10 days."

"You said the antibiotics should do the trick," John hedged. "Is my son's life in danger? I mean, what if this drug doesn't work?"

"Mr. Winchester your son is young, and in excellent shape, minus his bout with the bronchitis that brought on the pneumonia. We'll be doing some repeat chest x-rays to check the progress of the lungs as the infection abates. His type of infection reacts well to this drug, and I have every confidence that within a couple days we should be able to see some improvement with the lung infection."

"So, he's sedated?"

"Yes, and as I said I plan on keeping him that way for 24 to 48 hours. And, depending on how fast he shows some level of improvement … I may keep him sedated an additional day. The rest will allow his body a chance to regroup and the antibiotics to do their work. And, once he is weaned off the ventilator he'll most likely be moved to a regular room and be able to leave the ICU."

"May I see him?"

"Sure, I'll take you to him. If you want you can even go up to the ICU with him when transport comes for him. I'll be his attending physician. Actually, I was doing my ER monthly rotation today, but I'm normally splitting my time between ICU and other units."

"Good," John nodded. "My son…" John said rising from his chair.

"Oh, of course, follow me," the doctor indicated the direction with an arm.

John walked into the curtained off area and his heart broke. Dean was pale and unmoving. He noted the multiple IV bags suspended on poles around his son. He saw the ventilator tube jutting from his mouth and couldn't block out the unmistakable hiss of the machine as it made his son's chest rise and fall mechanically. He noted the heart monitor wires snaking out from under the pale blue hospital gown, and he saw the white pulse-ox clip attached to his finger. "Dean," John's voice was soft and thick with emotion. "Hey sport … well … you've gotten yourself in a fine mess, haven't you?" He reached up and stroked his son's forehead feeling the warmth of the fever that burned. He looked at his son's still features and noted how much he had changed since he had left all those months ago.

His hair had more length now, of course it wasn't any close resemblance to the mop of head his youngest son had, but the over all length was longer and had begun to cover his ears a little. "You're going to be fine son. I'm right here, and you're going to be okay." He held Dean's hand nestled between both of his warm broad hands. John hated seeing Dean so weak and vulnerable. He had mentally prepared himself for Sam having problems, but he hadn't seen this health crisis for his first born coming, and he felt off balance. The doctor walked in and indicated to John that Dean's room was ready in the ICU and he followed his son up to the second floor. They rolled into ICU and John met eyes with the nurse busying herself with preparations in a room John surmised would be his son's. And, when she turned around he recognized her immediately. "Sue?" She had been both Dean's nurse and Sam's after the wreck.

"Mr. Winchester," her voice enthusiastic. "Well, I'd say it's good to see you again, but given the situation …" John smiled at her. Sue helped transfer Dean to his bed, as another nurse continued to squeeze the bag attached to his breathing tube since they had to breathe for Dean during his transport because they had taken him off the ventilator in the ER to move him upstairs. John watched her consult paperwork for Dean's ventilator settings and quickly had him hooked up to a ventilator that resumed breathing for him. "Pneumonia, huh?" she commented to John. "I can only imagine he ran himself into the ground, right? He's got a hard head." John chuckled.

"That he does. I think stubbornness is a family trait." John glanced at his watch. _Damn where had the time gone_, he complained in his mind. It was all ready 3:00 and Sam would be leaving the library soon.

"Something wrong?" Sue asked as she noted his mild distress when he glanced at his watch.

"I need to step outside and make a call."

"Sure, he's fine. And, don't worry about him waking up. I'm sure the doctor told you he's been sedated." John nodded.

Ten minutes later John walked back into the ICU. He had called Sam at the library and told him he was picking him up because they had stuff to do, and to wait for him. He hadn't been able to bring himself to tell Sam about Dean … he'd do that in person. "Sue?" John said as he walked into Dean's room.

"Yes?"

"I need to go pick up my other son, and we'll be back in a short while, okay?"

"Sure," Sue replied. "I wasn't aware you had a third son."

"Huh?" John was perplexed. "No, I just have Dean and Sam. I'm going to go get Sam. He'll want to see his brother."

"Sam?" Sue couldn't believe what she was hearing. After all, everyone in the ICU knew the prognosis for Sam when he had left their care and went to the neurology unit.

"Yeah," John answered casually. "I better get going. I wrote down my cell number should you need to contact me while I'm gone."

"Okay," Sue stared at the retreating back of the man. Her mind trying to process and still unwilling to accept that the Sam she had cared for was going to walk into this unit.

**Jefferson City Public Library**

John pulled up outside the library, and spotted Sam right away as he sat on a bench waiting for his father. John knew Sam hated the fact he wasn't permitted to drive, and Dr. Myers had been frank in saying she may never be able to clear him for driving because of his seizures, and coordination issues affecting his reflexes. Sam stood and walked to his dad's truck. "You need help?" John asked smiling. It was always a little more difficult for his son to get into the higher automobile … he was thankful his son was as tall as he was since it made it slightly easier for him to get in.

"No, I got it," Sam answered easily, and John allowed himself a moment to relish the simple sentence that came out of is son's mouth easily. Fluid speech seemed to happen more and more, but he still had problems. And, when Sam was upset his sentences still resorted to broken and fragmented blurbs. When Sam was inside the truck he turned to his father with expectant eyes and a smile.

"So where www…we going?"

"Sammy," John began. "First, I want you to know he's going to be fine, okay? The doctor said so."

"Who?" Sam's eyes were fearful.

"Sammy, Dean collapsed at work today. He couldn't breathe." John felt the tension rolling off his youngest child.

"Dean! Www…where is he? What wrong?"

"Sammy, you need to calm down. I don't want you triggering a seizure, okay? It won't do your brother any good for you to be flat on your back." John reached out a comforting hand and grasped Sam's shoulder. "The doctor said Dean has pneumonia. They sedated him, so he can rest. The doctor wanted to let his lungs rest … so they are breathing for him, okay? But, they said he's going to be fine. It's just going to take a few days."

"I www…want to sss…see him."

"I know," John replied. "I'm taking you to the hospital with me." They pulled onto the large property of the hospital and as they drove through toward the visitor parking Sam looked hard at the place as a memory stirred.

"Remember this place. Look familiar." John spared a glance at his son as he drove into the visitor lot.

"It should," John commented. "It's the hospital they brought us all to after the crash. It's where you had your brain surgery when you hurt your head."

"I was in ccc…coma here?"

"Yes, until you were transferred to Ivy Ridge."

John and Sam walked into the elevator and took it to the second floor. John slowed his strides so Sam didn't feel left behind. He kept up, but if he tried to hurry his left side would sometimes have another idea, and he would stumble. "Sammy, they have your brother in ICU until they can remove the breathing tube, but don't let it scare you, all right? I don't want you to get upset. And, don't forget … the doctor wants to keep Dean asleep for a couple days or so by keeping him sedated."

"I be okay," Sam pushed out a frustrated sigh. "I mean, I will bbb…be okay." John smiled at his young son's attempt to speak clearly.

"Hey kiddo, I know you're worried, but your brother's going to be fine. He's just a little sick right now, but the medicine will help him."

"I know."

"You know," John began. "You spent three weeks in this very ICU before they moved you to the third floor neurology unit."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

John and Sam walked into the ICU unit and John could feel eyes shift toward them, but everything got quiet, and it was the whispers that drew his attention up. He saw the stares of astonishment. They were all looking at Sam.

"Sam?" Sue's voice could not mask the absolute shock. Sam turned and looked at her.

"Ah, Sam, this is Dean's nurse Sue. Actually, she took care of you while you were in here."

"Hi," Sam offered his hand. "Thh…thank you for ttt…tak…ing care of me. And, fff…for my bro…ther." Sue couldn't help herself as she pulled Sam into an impromptu hug.

"Oh sweetie, it was my pleasure. I just …" she stared at Sam. Her memories were of an unconscious and unresponsive young man. This person was alive, and animated. Sam returned the hug … in some odd way he thought her voice sounded familiar. "Here, your brother is this way." John stepped in behind his son to follow him into Dean's room.

"How's he doing?" John asked.

"His vitals are stable. He's resting as you already know. At this point, we'll just support him with the vent, meds and fluids. We'll monitor him and his vitals. And, they will probably do a repeat chest x-ray tomorrow morning to see if his lungs are the same or worse." John nodded.

"I'll let you have some time. I'll be back in a bit. He'll be due for a vitals check."

"Thank you."

"Oh, you're welcome."

Sue walked back to the nurse's station and heard the whispers. "Sue?"

"Yes," she turned around and Dr. Kendrick was standing in front of her. He had been in ICU for a consult on another patient when he saw Sam walk in. He didn't often remember faces of his former patients, but Sam had always stuck in his mind because he had never dealt with the size of hematoma Sam had had, and he remembered the family drama over his care and placement when he left the hospital. And, of course, he recognized the father … John Winchester had had countless meetings and consultations with him over Sam's diagnosis and subsequent prognosis.

"Was that John Winchester and his son?"

"Yes, there here for his oldest son … bilateral pneumonia."

"That was Sam Winchester?" He questioned. "The head injury from a few months back. Coma … persistent unresponsiveness?"

"That would be him." She answered with a smile. "Miracles do happen," she offered.

"I have to speak with his father. I'd love to get a scan of his brain. This shouldn't be," he commented. "There is no reason he should be functioning at this level."

"Well, maybe not," she offered. "But, if I've learned anything over the years doing this job it's that the human body can pull off some amazing things, and that medicine isn't always right." She smiled. Dr. Kendrick nodded and walked toward Dean's room.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Kendrick stood at the door. "I know this isn't probably the time, but when you have a moment could we talk?" Dr. Kendrick found himself staring at Sam as the young man turned his eyes from his unconscious brother to meet the doctor's eyes. Sam acknowledged him with a nod, although he didn't recognize the man, and returned to looking at Dean and holding his big brother's hand.

"We can talk now," John said rising from the chair he was sitting in. "Sammy, I'm going to go talk to the doctor for a moment. You stay with your brother."

"Okay. I'm nnn…not lll…leaving Dean."

John remembered the doctor, and there was a slow burn anger brewing in him. This man had said Sam was lost and that there was no hope for recovery. "I remember you Dr. Kendrick," John's voice held a deadly tone. The doctor took him into a consultation room for privacy.

"Mr. Winchester, I understand you're upset."

"Upset? No, that would not be the word I would choose. Maybe, enraged or how about good old fashioned pissed."

"Your son Sam should not be walking and talking and there are another fifty neurologists that would back up my opinion based on his scans from when he was here."

"And, all fifty of you would still be trying to decide whether to scratch your watch or wind your butt," John retorted. "My older son said you were all quacks and that you were wrong about Sam… and he was right."

"It's all water under the bridge," the doctor replied. "I can't change my diagnosis, and based on what I saw with my own eyes back then my opinion remains the same. Your son should have never recovered from his non-responsive state. The brain injury was extensive."

"Blah-blah," John complained. "Well, it's obvious he has moved far beyond being unresponsive. My son has battled back on a long road of rehab. He still goes to rehab. He has learned to walk and talk all over again. He is capable of self-care now, and as far as never having a meaningful recovery … he's in his brother's hospital room right now sitting with him and talking to him. I thank God your diagnosis was wrong, and no matter what you say or think it was wrong," John spat. "And, I don't want to hear that line of bull about based on the facts at the time … because another neurologist accepted my son to a rehab and knew he had a chance at some level of recovery. I actually allowed your words to influence my decisions for my child and I would have condemned him by putting him a long-term care facility."

"Perhaps," the doctor began. "I could use this as a learning case. I could take new scans of Sam's brain to compare to his previous scans, and this would be a learning opportunity for myself and the neurology staff at the hospital."

"Excuse me," John hissed. "Did I just hear you right? You want my son to be your science experiment?"

"It wouldn't be like that."

"We're finished here," John said standing up. It was taking every fiber of his body to not cold cock this doctor into oblivion.

"But, Mr. Winchester," Dr. Kendrick stood up from the table.

"Don't," John warned. "I want you to stay away from my son. You want to talk about his case and his improvements you call his doctor at Ivy Ridge, but you're not laying a hand on him."

"Maybe, I should speak directly with Samuel," the doctor offered and paused. "I mean he's competent to make his own decisions isn't he? However, I did catch his speech deficit when he spoke to you."

"My son isn't handicapped if that's what you're getting at. I told you he's had to relearn things and is going through rehab. You leave him the hell alone … you go near him and talk to him about any damn tests or scans … I will file charges against you."

"No need for threats. I'm just fascinated with your son's case. I'll respect your wishes. I apologize."

"He's not a lab rat. Look, I know because of you my son didn't die, okay? I know you're the surgeon that did his surgery, but he's been through enough…"

"I understand." John nodded.

"I want to get back to my children now."

"Of course."

**Meanwhile Dean's ICU Room**

Sam sat in a chair pulled closely to Dean's bed. He held his brother's limp hand in his own. "Hi Dean. It's Sam." He watched his brother's face … it wasn't that he expected him to open his eyes he understood that his big brother was heavily sedated, but it just seemed odd to see his brother so still. "Ddd…dad is ttt…taking care of things. I'm glad he's here. I'm nnn…not sure I www…would be good at talk…ing to doctors. You're going to be okay." Sam watched the automatic rise and fall of Dean's chest as the ventilator whooshed in the background. "You should have taken care of yourself."

"You tell him Sammy," John replied from the door with a smile.

"What doctor say?"

"Huh? Oh that doctor," John hedged. "It wasn't about your brother. It's nothing important."

"About me?"

"What? Why would you ask that?"

"Sue came in to check Dean," Sam began. "I ask her who that doc…tor was … she said a neu … neur," he shook his head in frustration. "A b…brain doc…tor." John couldn't help the small smile that crept across his face at his son's quick solution to his pronunciation problem.

"He was your doctor. He operated on you. He couldn't believe you recovered."

"He say something? You look angry." Sam commented.

"Sammy, just always remember that doctors aren't always right, okay? And, sometimes you have to go against reason," John replied. "Your brother never believed them when they said how sick you were … how bad your brain was hurt. They said you'd never walk or talk. That doctor didn't think you'd ever even acknowledge your brother or me again. It's just … I don't want to go back to that time, all right? We're beyond that now."

"Okay." Sam said simply and went back to watching Dean.

John and Sam sat with Dean until the sun had dropped and evening was encroaching. The eldest Winchester noticed Sam's large yawn. "Hey, kiddo, I think maybe we should call it a night … get you home and in bed."

"No, not leave Dean. Not tired."

"Sam," John replied. "Tomorrow is Thursday and you have rehab all day, and you'll need your rest."

"No rehab. Stay with Dean."

"Sammy, Dean wouldn't want you to exhaust yourself, and you know it. I'll stay with Dean all day tomorrow while you're in rehab, and then I'll pick you up and bring you to see your brother. He's not going to be waking up for a couple days at least the doctor said, so don't worry that he's waking up to an empty room."

"Dad," Sam's pleaded.

"No, Sam," John countered. "I want to stay with your brother too, but right now I have two children whose well-beings are my soul concern, and you know if you exhaust yourself you could trigger a seizure or make yourself sick. I don't want two son's in the hospital, okay? And, Dean wouldn't want you to lose any rehab time and you know it."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, now say goodnight to your brother and we'll head out. I want to get some food into you, and then I want you in bed." Sam nodded.

"Dean?" Sam leaned down toward his brother. "Dad's making me go home to eat and sss…sleep. You rest and get better." He reached down and smoothed back the hair from his brother's forehead. "See you tomorrow." He gave his brother's hand a gentle squeeze and released it. John patted Sam on the back.

"I'll be right out Sammy. I'll meet you by the desk."

"Yes, sir."

"How about 'yes, Dad,' I'm your father not your drill sergeant anymore," he said with a smile. He was awarded with a dimpled lopsided grin from his baby son.

"Yes, dad." John nodded with approval.

"Well, sport … I hate to leave you, but I know you'd want Sammy home. I'll be back tomorrow morning as soon as I drop your brother at rehab. You fight this infection Dean. You hear me? Your brother and I both need you." John still frowned at the sight of the breathing tube, but it was a necessary evil because without it his son would not survive. "Sleep well son." He leaned down close to Dean's ear, as a hand pushed back his hair gently, "I love you Dean," he whispered into his firstborn's ear. He kissed the top of Dean's head, "Sweet dreams." John left the room crossing Sue's path. "If there's any change or I'm needed I've left my home and cell numbers."

"Yep, they're both noted in his chart. I'm off in an hour and his night nurse will be Bianca."

"Thanks. I'll be back in the morning."

"Okay, goodnight Mr. Winchester."

"You too, Sue."

**The Winchester House, Midnight**

John was pulled from his sleep by a vivid nightmare with one word on his lips, _Dean_. The dream was still fresh in his mind and the memories of it assaulted him. He remembered Dean and there was a complication … he saw a flurry of activity around his son, and Dr. Riggs' sad eyes as he said they had lost him. He grabbed the phone next to his bed and dialed the number on the paper he placed on his nightstand. "ICU," a quiet voice responded.

"Hi, this is John Winchester," he struggled to remember the name of the night nurse, but couldn't. "I'd like to speak to the nurse for Dean Winchester. I'm his father."

"Sure, one minute."

"Hello, Mr. Winchester this is Bianca …what can I do for you?"

"I know it's late, but I just wanted to check on my son Dean."

"It's never too late," Bianca replied. "Dean is stable. His oxygen levels and blood pressure are fine. His fever has dropped, and was at 100 when I checked it an hour ago. He is resting comfortably."

"Good, I just…"

"You don't need an excuse to call Mr. Winchester he's your son and you're worried it's completely understandable. Is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"Earlier Sue mentioned they might do another chest x-ray tomorrow to see if his lungs are the same or worse has that been scheduled?"

"Yes, he's scheduled for a portable chest x-ray at 8:00 AM. He won't even have to leave his room … they'll bring the x-ray to him."

"Okay," John replied. "I'll be there in the morning after I take care of some things." He had to wait until he dropped Sam off at 9:00 AM for rehab in Elston and then drive back into the city.

"Sure, parents are welcome 24/7 except during nurse report times, and then they usually ask you to leave," she paused. "Report times are from 6:00 AM to 7:30 AM, and 6:00 PM to 7:30 PM."

"Yep, I remember, but thanks for reminding me."

"No problem Mr. Winchester."

"Thanks, Bianca was it?"

"Yep that's right."

"Thanks Bianca, and don't forget my numbers are with Dean's chart if you need me for anything at all."

"Sure thing."

John hung up the phone and clicked his side lamp off dropping the room into darkness. He lay back down for a moment and then he felt the urge to check on Sam. He walked quietly down the hallway of the three bedroom ranch Dean had rented. The rent in Jefferson City was fairly cheap, and they were able to get a lot for their rent money. Dean had looked at several houses and decided on this three bedroom two bath brick ranch that was on a suburban city street and was only two blocks from Sam's library placement. And, it was a close commute for himself and for Dean when they worked. It was a nice house for the boys and himself. They hadn't had a real home like this since before Mary had died.

He padded quietly down the carpeted hall, and was glad that Sam hadn't closed his door all the way, but had left it cracked just a little. He was careful not to wake his youngest son. He stood over by Sam's bed and watched him sleep. He assured himself of the gentle rise and fall of his son's chest in sleep, and was comforted by the fact that his sleep looked peaceful. His hand gently skimmed the top of Sam's head careful not to wake him. John smiled and before leaving he resituated a blanket that had fallen off Sam's chest. He covered him back up carefully, and left the room closing the door slightly behind him.

**Four Days Later, ICU**

John sat by Dean's side in the ICU. He had dropped Sam off at the library insistent that Dean would want him to be there. And, partly John wanted to spend some alone time with his son. Sam had completed his Thursday and Friday rehab days, and his entire weekend had been by Dean's bedside until John had pulled him out and taken him home. The doctor had told John that he would be stopping the sedation early on the morning of the fourth day and John wanted to be there when Dean woke up. The ventilator was still in place the doctor saying he'd feel better giving Dean another couple days on it to rest his lungs. The antibiotics were doing their job, and Dr. Riggs had said he was happy with Dean's progress.

It was a little after 9 AM when John felt a twitch inside his hand, and he looked down to see Dean's fingers move ever so slightly. He looked up and Dean still appeared to be asleep. "Dean? It's dad … can you hear me kiddo?" And, there it was a flicker as Dean's eyes moved under his closed eyelids.

"Dean?"

Slowly, Dean's eyes opened and focused on his father's face. And, then his eyes panicked and he began to thrash at the intrusion he felt in his throat. He felt like he was choking to death. The heart monitors beeped out a staccato rhythm as he fought the intubation tube. "Dean, no," John stood up holding his son's hands away from the tube. "Don't fight your breathing tube. Just relax son … its okay." His voice was oddly soothing and Dean relaxed. "You have pneumonia Dean," John spoke softly. "You've been sedated for a little while. You won't be able to speak until they remove the tube, and that won't be for another day or so. You've been in the hospital three days now … today is morning of day four. You're going to be fine and the doctor says the antibiotics are working." John rubbed a hand across Dean's hand reassuringly. John watched as Dean's eyes moved around the room, and then became wide and panicked, and he knew without words what Dean needed to know about. "He's fine Dean. Sammy's okay. He's been here everyday. And, I thought it best to get him out of here for a while, so he's at the library." John saw Dean visibly relax and he nodded his approval to Sam keeping his schedule.

"That brother of yours would stay a permanent fixture in your room if I let him. And, don't worry," John began. "I'm making sure he's taking his medication and wearing his bracelet whenever he's out of the house." Dean nodded again. John could see Dean's eyes droop in exhaustion. It was apparent that the adrenalin surge he had experienced upon waking had dropped off leaving only drowsiness behind. "Close your eyes son and rest," John soothed. "I'm not going anywhere." Dean allowed his eyes to close and despite his feelings over the past months toward his father he felt comforted by his father's voice and went to sleep.

Dean had woken up for small moments throughout the morning and afternoon. He had even seen Sue once and had acknowledged her with a small wave. John looked at his watch and knew he'd have to head out soon to pick up Sam from the library. He felt lucky that he didn't have to worry about work since both Dan and Larry had been wonderful and said to take off whatever time you need. Larry and the fellows from the garage had even sent flowers, but because of the rules of ICU no patients were permitted flowers in their rooms, but they were kept on display at the nurse's station. "Dean?" John spoke softly as gently rubbed a thumb across his forehead. "Son, can you hear me?" Dean stirred … his eyes opening to thin slits. "Dean?" His father's soft voice pulled him closer to waking. "Hey, there kiddo," he said with a gentle smile when he saw Dean wake and focus on him. "Dean, I didn't want you to wake up to an empty room, but I have to go pick-up your brother from the library, and it takes a little bit to get there. I'll bring him back here and you can see him."

Dean offered a small nod. "Now, close your eyes and get some more rest, okay?" John urged and Dean readily complied. He was asleep again within moments. Sue came in to check his vitals once again. "Hey, Sue. I gotta pick-up Sam," he started. "I told him, but he fell asleep so quick he may not remember, so if he wakes again and we're not back yet, please just remind him I getting Sam."

"Will do." Sue replied.

**Hospital, Seven Days Later**

"I still don't know why I need a friggin' wheelchair," Dean huffed. "I can walk on my own."

"Dean, it's hospital policy," John answered. "Here Sam," John handed Sam a plastic hospital bag with the words: Patient Belongings in blue and the blank information areas were filled in … Patient name: Dean Winchester, Room 2214.

"Well, how much longer do I gotta wait for some orderly to come push me out of here? I mean come on we're in the lobby now and the doors right there."

"Patience is a virtue Dean," Sue chimed in from behind him.

"Sue?" Dean looked at her curiously.

"In the flesh," she quipped. "I heard we were finally kicking your stubborn," she lowered her voice and leaned in, "stubborn ass out of here today. I took my break and volunteered to wheel you out myself." Dean smiled. He had come to depend on Sue a lot when Sammy was hurt and she had always been straight with him and kept his head in as good a head space as he could have had considering.

"The car's out front. They're letting me park there because you're being discharged." Over the past few days Dean had come to an amicable truce with his father. He had proven himself this time around, but Dean still wasn't sure how long it would last. He still didn't trust him, but he was glad for him, otherwise Sammy would have been alone for the eleven days he's been in the hospital. John walked ahead to get the Impala ready. He thought the car would be the easiest to get Dean home in and Sam could sit in the back.

"Now, Dean, I know the doctor went over your discharge instructions, and gave you some follow-up meds. Now you take them, and he said take another full week off for bed rest before going back to work. I don't want to see your handsome mug back in this place unless it's a social call you got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Ma'am, oh lord, I'm not ready for retirement yet … just call me Sue and none of the ma'am stuff." Dean nodded. "Okay," she said as she slowed the wheelchair and stopped by the car. "You're all set." She looked at John. "Make sure he takes his meds and stays in bed." John nodded. She turned to Sam. "Hey, Sam … you make sure that brother of yours does what he's supposed to do."

"I will. Bbb…bye Sue."

"Bye sweetie." Sam blushed and looked away self conscious of the heat filling his cheeks.

Dean laughed. "Sammy and Sue sittin' in a tree…" Sam reacted before he could stop himself as he cuffed the back of his brother's head knocking it forward slightly from the impact. "Hey, sick person here," Dean complained.

"Sss…sorry," Sam offered quickly.

"You pay him no mind Sam. He had it coming to him." She said with a smile.

"Hey!" Dean countered. Sue just rolled her eyes and looked up to John. John held the door open and Dean slid into the front seat and John closed it once Dean was seated. Sam climbed into the backseat closing his own door.

"You've got your hands full with these boys … don't you?" Sue said quietly for John's ears only. He smiled at her and just as quietly replied …

"You have no idea." He smiled. Sue smiled and waved as the Impala pulled away. John had both his boys with him, and he was so happy that Dean was going home, and that Sammy had his big brother back. The house seemed empty without both his boys filling it. John was hopeful for the possibilities that may have opened up because of this hospital stay … he felt hope that he and Dean may finally be on the same road … he wasn't giving up and was determined to earn Dean's trust again.

**To Be Continued**

**Share your thoughts. Reviews are my helpful motivation to continue with this story. Thanks in advance for your comments as they are always appreciated.**

**Read and Review!**


	16. Mending

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** I haven't decided how long this story is going to be, and what I'd like to do and what I'm going to be able to do may be vastly different. All do in part to life. However, I will try to not make you wait too long between updates, and hopefully I'll be able to give you the story in its entirety and not some shortened version just in order to finish and not leave a story lingering out there for readers.

Also, as a reminder when there are grammatical errors in dialogue, and it's Sam's … I know they are there, and they are intentional… he has a speech deficit. Also, I write dialogue in a casual spoken form of language that often sounds like slang. So, when I say something like, "you got enough" or a similar truncated speech pattern that appears grammatically incorrect it is intentional. And, yes, sometimes as I write in haste to get a chapter posted you may encounter the errant comma here and there or missing all together, well … I can only proof read so much, and sometimes mistakes will make their way through. I'm not perfect.

And, I wanted to say a BIG thank you to everyone that takes the time to review when you're finished reading. I appreciate it.

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Mending**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Through all the happiness and sorrow, I guess I'd do it again. Live for today and not tomorrow. It's still the road that never ends…"_ Excerpt by Ozzy Osbourne, _Road to Nowhere_

**October 31, 2007, Halloween**

Dean came into the kitchen through the door from the garage and tossed his keys into a basket on the counter. "Hey, Lucy …I'm home," he did his best Ricky Ricardo imitation. He spotted two bags of candy on the counter near the fridge and picked them up looking at them. One bag was peanut butter cups, and the other mini candy bar assortments.

"Don't get any ideas," John said as he walked into the kitchen. He was glad that Dean had felt well enough to return to work a week ago, and he could see the healthy color back in his son's cheeks. "That candy isn't for us."

"Then whose it for?" Dean eyed the candy bars. There was a Hershey bar with is name on it, and he wanted one.

"The kids," John answered absently as he opened a cabinet and pulled a box of spaghetti out. "We're having pasta tonight," John commented. "What kind of sauce do you want? Meat or Mushroom?" Dean was still trying to figure out the _kids_ remark.

"What kids? Last time I checked it's just us."

"Trick or Treat," John remarked. "It's tonight from 6:00 to 8:00 and we live in the middle of suburbia Dean it's a given." Dean looked at his father as if he'd just sprouted horns and cloven hooves. "What?" He looked at his son with a dead pan expression.

"Who are you and what have you done with my father?"

"Well, we can't very well turn off the porch light and not answer the door. It's two hours," John replied. "It won't kill us."

"It might," Dean suggested. "Tons of screaming kids begging for a sugar fix." Dean glanced at the bags of candy. "This enough?"

"It'll be fine Dean," John assured.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked as he realized his kid brother hadn't made his way into the kitchen yet.

"In his room," John answered. "He's in a bit of a snit or something. He wouldn't tell me what it was about."

"Well, did something happen at the library today?" Dean cast a worried glance toward the other side of the house.

"I asked him," John countered. "He told me the library was fine. He's been quiet and moody all day Dean. Maybe he'll talk to you."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean agreed. He started to leave the kitchen.

"Hey," John called out.

"Yeah?" Dean said turning.

"You never answered," John said as he held up to jars of sauce. "Meat or Mushroom?"

"Sammy hates mushrooms dad."

"Damn, that's right," John groused. "Okay, meat. You know…" he began before Dean left. "If you hadn't gone on and on about them being fungus when he was six he would have never stopped eating them." Dean smiled. He and his father hadn't reached a complete truce, but they had some common ground and things were good, as much as Dean hated to admit that … they were good. His dad had stuck around when he was sick and had been there for him and Sam. He still didn't trust that he wouldn't up and leave, but at least for now he was here.

John went about cooking up some dinner for himself and the boys. Dean walked toward Sam's closed bedroom door. Dean knocked quietly. "Sammy?" No answer.

"Sammy, can I come in?" Again, silence was his only answer. He put his hand on the door knob and tried to turn it. It was locked. _Okay that's new_, Dean thought to himself. Sam had never locked his door since moving into the house, and now he apparently wanted to keep the world out. "Hey, Sammy," Dean spoke a little louder. "What's with the locked door, huh? Come on let me in." He paused for a moment. "You okay? It couldn't be that bad." Dean put his ear against the door and listened. He didn't hear anything on the other side … no rustle of paper or the springs in the bed moving it was quiet, too quiet.

"Okay Sammy!" Dean raised his voice. "You're startin' to worry me. Open the door!"

John heard the urgent timbre in his son's voice and turned the sauce down on the stove and went to see what was wrong. "Dean? What's wrong?"

"He's not answering and the door's locked." Dean's eyes were wide with alarm. "Sam, I'm not kidding man … either open up or I'm kicking the damn door in."

"Sammy? Son? It's dad," John spoke to the door. "Come on and open up." There was no reply.

"That's it," Dean stepped back to kick it open and John stopped him with the simple raise of a hand. "What?" Dean hissed. "Something's wrong."

"He'll come out when he's ready," John answered.

"Are you kidding me? He's not answering and the doors locked. I'm not going to sit around to see if you're right. He could be in there turning blue for all I know." John understood Dean's alarm because he felt it too.

"Sam?" John spoke gently and evenly. "I'll tell you what," he suggested. "Just tell us you're all right and we'll leave you alone, okay? And, if you want … we'd like to see you for dinner at 5:00 in the kitchen." Dean looked at his father like he was nuts. In his head he had all ready concocted a medical crisis for his brother. All he saw on the other side of the door was his brother unable to speak and turning blue. John could almost read his oldest son's thoughts and he raised a single finger indicating to wait, and then it happened.

"I'm fine," the voice was quiet, but unmistakably Sam's voice.

"Okay, Sammy," John spoke softly. "Will we see you at 5:00?"

"Yeah," quietly made it through the door.

"Okay, kiddo," John answered. "We'll see you then." He paused. "Do you need anything?"

"No."

"All right, see you in a bit."

John motioned Dean out into the family room. "Just let him be Dean. He obviously wants to be alone, and he's entitled to his privacy."

"Dad, you know it's different with Sammy. He's got a seizure disorder that could escalate, and it's just different …" Dean's voice trailed off.

"And, I think he knows that Dean," John suggested. "Look, he hasn't had a break through seizure since he went on his medication, so don't go looking for problems. If it's not broke … don't fix it. He's a smart kid and knows we treat him with kit gloves most of the time like he's a little boy still, but you and I both have to remember that he's a grown man."

"I know, but it's…" Dean rubbed a frustrated hand through his hair.

"It's harder to let go of the memories of him being hurt and helpless," John suggested.

"Yeah," Dean reluctantly admitted.

"It's the same for me too Dean. But, when I see him I'm either torn between seeing my little boy still in overall's playing in the mud or I see him staring at the walls blank and he's not there. I think he just wants some of his independence back, and I think we have to give it back to him or at least on some level."

"Yeah, you're right, but I worry ya know? Sammy can walk and talk now Dad, but there's things he still doesn't understand and I just feel like I gotta keep an eye on him."

"I know," John conceded. "But, we both gotta loosen the apron strings on him."

"Loosen, huh? Not cut?"

"Yeah, well, I doubt that'll ever happen," John answered. "But, more loose I think we can both manage. Agreed?"

"How about I agree to try?"

"Works for me," John smiled.

Dinner was a quiet affair. Dean and John both tried to engage Sam in conversation by asking him about the library and how his day had gone, but Sam responded with simple one and two words replies. It was obvious that he didn't want to be social tonight. "Sam?" John broke the moment of silence. His youngest son looked up from his plate. He still had difficulty with utensils, but John had solved that by buying silverware with a wider and not so refined grip area. Sam still couldn't manage the fine motor skills required to hold a knife and cut, so either John or Dean would cut up food for him when needed. Sam hated it.

"Yes?"

"I thought you could hand out candy to the kids tonight for trick or treat," John suggested. Sam shook his head.

"Well, I think it'll be good for you, and you like kids. Of course, I could stick Dean on kid duty."

"What? NO way!" Dean chimed in. "Hey, you bought the candy why aren't you doing it. I mean … since when did we become the Norman Rockwell family anyway? We don't do holidays, and we never did Halloween." John gave his son an exasperated look.

"Hey, you used to love trick or treat when you were a kid," John commented. Me and your mom…" John's voice died off at the mention of his wife. Dean looked stricken as his father stared at his plate of pasta with haunted eyes. The table was quiet.

Sam never really cared for Halloween, but he'd rather face those kids instead of watching his brother try the task.. "I'll do it," Sam answered quietly. "Dean would eee…eat all the ccc…can…dy any…way and scare the kkk…kids."

"Would not," Dean rebutted.

"Would too," Sam countered. "Mean and sur…sur…ly." John laughed and both boys looked at their father.

"He's got a point Dean," John offered with a look of amusement.

"What? He's callin' me mean and surly, and you're agreeing with him," Dean feigned being hurt. "I'm not," he grumbled under his breath. "I like kids … I do," Dean added when he saw the look both his brother and dad gave him. "Hey, what about Lucas? Huh? I think I proved I like kids." Sam nodded. John felt out of the loop on this one.

"Who's Lucas?"

"Huh?" Dean said looking at his dad. "Oh, yeah, I guess you wouldn't know," he commented realizing that he had no idea about their lake adventure. "It was a job we went on last year," he answered. "An angry spirit in the lake was drowning people in the lake or wherever the lake water could go."

"Hmm… sounds like it was an interesting job. You boys got the spirit?"

"Ah, well, it kind of got what it was after and went away." Dean answered. "Long story."

"And, Lucas?"

"Just a kid we helped out," Dean replied. "Him and his mom." John nodded and looked at his watch.

"Well, we better finish with dinner pretty soon because that doorbell is going to start ringing."

Dean and John watched Sam from the family room where they were watching a college football game on the TV. It seemed the young man was coming out of his shell from earlier with each little kid that came to the door. Dean listened to his brother talk to the newest arrivals with a smile as did John.

"Oh, Darth Va…der, huh? How old are you?"

"Five," a little young voice answered.

"Wow, that big, huh?"

"My sister is a punkin' see…" the little boy turned and pointed to his infant sister in a stroller dressed as a tiny orange pumpkin with a green stem hat to finish the costume off. She looked about seven months old and seemed very interested in all of the strange creatures and fairy princesses walking past her stroller.

"I see," Sam answered with a smile.

Finally, Dean and John heard the door close a few minutes after eight as they each drank a cold beer having finished the college game on the TV and finding something else to watch on ESPN. Sam walked into the family room with an empty candy bowl. "So, the little vultures cleaned you out," Dean commented. "Man, and you didn't set anything aside," he complained. "Geez, what a way to treat your bro…" his little tirade was ended abruptly by getting smacked in the side of his head with a miniature Hershey bar.

John chuckled, "You were saying?" Dean's cheeks flushed slightly. Sam just stood there with an amused look on his face. Sam disappeared into the kitchen to put the bowl down and came back into the family room. He seemed to pace for a moment and then sat down looking at his family.

"Sammy? You okay?" Dean said sitting up from his lounging position. John clicked the TV off.

"What is it Sam?" John asked.

"I'm sss…sor…ry for to…night. I shouldn't have lll…locked the door. I know you both worry."

"It's okay Sammy," Dean countered quickly. "You can have your privacy. Dad and I talked and I guess we both have been a little … suffocating." He relented.

Sam smiled. "A little?" Dean and John both smiled.

"Okay, a lot," John conceded as he chimed in. "So, kiddo do you want to tell us what was wrong?"

"Stupid," Sam replied as he stared at his hands.

"Hey," John replied. "Don't say that okay? If it matters to you … whatever it is," he began. "Then it's not stupid, and your brother and I certainly aren't going to think it either." Dean nodded in agreement.

"So what's up Sammy?" Dean questioned. "Maybe Dad or me can fix it." Sam shook his head sadly.

"Wish that you could," he said simply. "It's just…"

"What?" Dean's eyes were serious as he leaned toward his brother that sat across from him.

"Jess," came his shaky reply and that was all either of the older Winchesters needed to hear.

"Oh, Sammy man … I can't believe I didn't remember. It was two years ago today that I showed up and hauled you to Jerrico to look for dad. I climbed in your window on Halloween."

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Last time I sss…saw her alive. Next time she was …" John stood up and walked over to Sam and took a seat right next to him. He put a comforting arm around his son's shoulders.

"It's okay Sammy," he comforted. "I know it's hard … I do." And both Sam and Dean knew their father was right … he did know and he understood this loss completely. Sam leaned into his father's comfort and in that moment the months that John Winchester had been gone didn't seem so important. He was here now and Sam let go of the little bit of anger he had kept silently to himself since his father returned. Sam allowed a slight smile to creep up at the edges of his mouth. Dean felt thankful for their father in that moment because he had been able to help Sam in a way he knew he could never truly understand his brother's loss the way his father could and did. However, the family had an anniversary coming up that they were all to familiar with and they'd be together for the first time in a long time to get through it.

**November 2, 2007**

Sam walked through the lobby of Ivy Ridge having just finished his out patient rehab for the day and he had tomorrow, too. Today, his session had ended a few minutes early and he sat in the lobby waiting for his brother to pick him up. There Dad had agreed to work an hour over and Dean would have to get Sam.

Sam knew what today was and it was an all around horrible day and he knew that his Dad and brother knew it too, but they hadn't said anything. _Two years ago today you died Jess_, Sam thought to himself and he stared at his hands as he fidgeted in his seat. _And, Mom, it's been so long. Twenty-four years ago you died for me_, Sam lamented. He lost track of time while he was lost in his own thoughts until his brother's voice and hand on his shoulder startled him out of his ruminations.

"Sammy?" Dean's concerned eyes met with his brother's distant ones. "I've been outside waiting for ten minutes. I had to park the car to come look for you."

"Sorry," he answered quickly.

"You okay?"

"Huh? Yeah, I was just lll…lost in thought."

"Apparently kiddo." Dean offered him a hand to stand and he took it. "So how did rehab go today?"

"Good."

"Man, Sammy don't talk all at once," Dean joked with is kid brother at his complete lack of elaboration. "Define good." Dean and Sam continued to walk out to the car in the parking lot.

"The same as usual Dean," Sam complained. "PT with Mel, and speech with April."

"No occupational?"

"Yes, I had to try a checkbook." Dean glanced at his brother not completely understanding what he was trying to say.

"Try a checkbook?" Dean remembered that as part of his brother's rehab he would be relearning certain life skills that his cognitive delays had affected.

"Write checks. Balance." Sam had reverted to his fragmented speech and Dean knew he was frustrated. "But I can't hold damn pen," Sam hissed. "Dar…lene had to and I told her what to write. She made me use cal…cu…lator, but buttons ttt…too small."

"Look Sammy I don't have a clue how hard this is, but I see what you go through. I know this isn't easy and that you want everything to be like it was, but things take time kiddo."

"Hate that I nnn…not under…stand. I know I know how …" he paused. "But it not come." Dean's heart ached for his little brother. He looked at Sam and saw the same little brother he had always known. The same brother he grew up with and the same one he had shared the road with hunting not so long ago, but somehow all of it seemed a lifetime ago when he really thought about it. And, no matter how much Sam was his Sammy there were differences that he couldn't ignore and unfortunately his little brother was beginning to notice his deficits more than he used to and it angered him.

"Sam," Dean began. "Every rehab and study time at home helps you get better. I know the changes don't seem like a lot to you or are too slow in happening, but believe me I was there when you were still fighting to come out of your coma completely," Dean took a breath. "I see how much your hard work has paid off and continues to. You just gotta be patient man." Sam ducked his head in acknowledgement. Dean was about to say something else when his cell phone rang. He saw the Caller ID and couldn't ignore it, _Dad_.

"Hey Dad?" Dean answered as he and Sam stood by the Impala. "Yeah, I'm just getting Sammy from rehab we're still at Ivy Ridge." Sam stood listening to one side of the conversation. "Yeah, okay," Dean's voice sounded hesitant. "Suits? What for?" Sam ears perked up toward his brother. His mind wondering what was his father was talking about on the other end of the cell phone. "Yeah, Sammy and I both do. Okay, we'll be home in twenty minutes or so. Okay, bye."

"What does dad want?" Sam asked slowly.

"Beats the hell out of me," Dean looked puzzled. "He wouldn't say. He just asked if you and I had suits. I told him yeah. He said to meet him at home and to get cleaned up and put on our suits."

"Why?" Sam looked as perplexed as his older brother.

"I just told you Sammy," Dean chided. "I don't know what he wants … he didn't say."

Both Winchester boys sat on the sectional couch in the family room as their father stood in front of them surveying them. John was clean and shaven and wearing something neither boy could readily remember ever seeing their father wear … a suit. Dean and Sam both wore dress pants and shirts with ties, and each wore a blazer. John wore black pants with a cobalt blue dress shirt and a tie with a black jacket.

"When did you get an outfit like that?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I kept it around for certain recon jobs … can't very walk into government facility or hospital wearing jeans and flashing a badge, at least not always," he said with a grin. "I could ask you boys the same thing."

"Work related," Dean said pulling on his tie. "So what are we in these monkey suits for?"

"We're going out to dinner and I made reservations," John commented. "Look, you boys know what today is, and so do I." John replied. Both boys looked at each other and then back to their father. "I want us to go out as a family tonight and do something for the three of us. It's a family dinner … it's not much, but it's better than a greasy spoon or eating here at home. I want to take my boys out for a nice dinner."

"Yeah, sure," Dean answered first. He couldn't deny the warm unfamiliar feeling in his gut. This moment was what he had wished for since confessing to Sam in Chicago. Sam looked at his father and his brother and could see the slow mending taking place in their relationship. There was still a lot of ground to be covered between Dean and their Dad, but tonight was a major move in the right direction.

"Yeah, Dad," Sam answered with a smile.

"So, where we eatin' at?" Dean asked. John smiled.

"I made us reservations at Houston's."

"You're kidding, really?" Dean's eyes got big. He had heard of that restaurant and their reputation preceded them when it came to their steak preparations. His mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"I'm not kidding," John answered. "I thought a classy steak place would wet your appetite."

"Oh, man, I got a T-Bone with my name on it and a big fat baked potato loaded with sour cream and butter. Mmm … Good."

"Come on boys," John urged. "Reservations are for 5:00." John watched his boys walk out the front door ahead of him, and he watched his son's and smiled. He felt completeness wash over him that he hadn't felt since Mary passed.

**Houston's Restaurant**

The food arrived and the table was filled with lively conversation. John noticed that as Dean talked to him and Sam was laughing about something his brother was saying that Dean was cutting Sammy's steak for him. It was automatic and he never skipped a beat while talking, and John was fascinated that Dean's apparent casual approach seemed to work because Sam either didn't notice or didn't care that his big brother was cutting his meat.

"So, dad how many days is the shop going to be closed for the holiday?" Dean asked. "I mean, Larry closing the shop for three days for us." John smiled at the notion of spending a holiday with his son's and actually observing it.

"Yeah, Dan is doing the same thing. We actually are getting off at 2:00 on the twenty-second. And, Thanksgiving is the following day. Hey, Sammy, you still have rehab on the twenty-second, right?"

"Yeah," he answered casually.

"Hey Sammy, I can drop you off that day, but maybe Dad can pick you up since he gets off earlier than me. Can you dad?"

"No problem. What? Larry keeping you a full day?"

"Not exactly … he's letting us go at 3:30, and it'd take me a while to get out to Elston to pick Sammy up, so…"

"Not a problem. You know Sam you're about due for your monthly report at the center. Dr. Myers likes to meet with us near the end of the month to discuss your rehab and progress."

"I know," Sam commented. "I need ttt…to make an app…appoint…ment."

"I can do that Sammy," Dean replied. "It's not a problem."

"I can do it," Sam countered. Dean caught his father's eyes and understood the unspoken dialogue.

"Sure thing Sammy. Maybe try to get an appointment for the week before the holiday. I think 4:00 oughta be good. I can leave work early. Just do it on a rehab day Sammy, and that way you finish at 3:30 and then the meeting will be right after." John nodded.

"Yeah, Dean and I will just drive together to get you and then we'll meet with Dr. Myers, sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Good." John smiled at his youngest son.

Dinner was relaxing and the conversation was jovial and tension free for a change. John was thankful for this quiet time. Today, wasn't a happy day for any member of this family, but they were getting through it as a family, and that was all that counted.

**Thanksgiving Day, 2007**

"God, Dad," Dean groused as his father stacked another container in his arms. "What did you get? It's just three of us. You feedin' the neighbors or something." John chuckled. He had preordered a Thanksgiving day dinner from a local grocery store knowing full well there was no way he and his boys were going to pull off anything as intricate a turkey without food poisoning. He was thankful that the store had offered holiday pick-up hours until 11:30 AM, so he had been able to pick it up still warm and ready to be eaten.

"Hey, as much as you two boys can eat you'd think I was running a free kitchen for all of Jefferson City."

"Ha-ha," Dean replied sarcastically. "What'd you order anyway?"

"It's Thanksgiving Dean," John answered lightly. "I ordered the standards." Dean could smell the hot turkey under his nose in a sealed tin-foil container.

"Is it a whole turkey?"

"Yeah, something they said would feed a family of four easily, so I figured it'd be enough, plus there are a lot of sides."

"Smells damn good," Dean commented his mouth watering.

"Where's your brother?"

"He was setting the table the last time I saw him."

"Well, come on the sooner we get the grub inside the sooner we can eat. I'm starved."

"You are? I haven't eaten at all today. I'm nearing malnourished." John chuckled as he followed his son in through the open kitchen door.

Dean and John both carried in containers and bags placing them down on the counters. Sam turned to look at them just as he finished putting down some paper napkins. John and Dean looked at Sam's handy work and smiled. "Looks good Sammy," Dean praised.

"Your brother's right Sammy. Nice job." John smiled warmly at his youngest son.

The went about opening containers and John transferred the dinner rolls to a basket that Sam had set out, and filled some bowls with the side dishes leaving the empty Styrofoam containers discarded on the counter in a brown paper bag.

Finally, everything was ready and they all sat down. Dean started to reach for a roll. "What are you doing?" John asked casually.

"Huh? I'm getting a roll." Dean answered looking at his father as if he were nuts because it was very obvious what he was doing.

"We should say grace." John replied. Dean was at a loss for words. He stared at his father dumbstruck trying to process what he knew he had heard. John smiled at his eldest son clearly in shock. "You might want to close that mouth before a bug flies in."

"Grace? Dad … when have we ever?" Dean finally found his voice.

"It just seems like the right thing to do Dean. I mean … we're all here together, and we're safe. We have a lot to be thankful this year; at least I know I do. Sam's recovery and your pneumonia …" he suggested.

"You coming bbb…back," Sam suggested with a lopsided grin. John smiled in return. He felt comforted by his youngest son's response.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Dean replied. "But, who's saying it? I don't have the first clue."

"Yeah, it's been a while for me too," John offered. "Hey, Sammy how about you say grace." Sam felt a mixture of emotions. He was pleased his dad would ask him to and mortified that he was asked to all at the same time.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean encouraged.

"But, it might ttt…take for…ever to say," Sam spoke softly.

"We aren't going anywhere kiddo," John assured.

"The food will ggg…get cold," Sam replied with an embarrassed smile.

"Just try Sam," John coaxed. "That's all we ask."

"Dad's right Sammy. Just try," Dean smiled.

"Okay," Sam sighed. He extended an upturned hand to each of his family members. Dean quirked up an eyebrow at his brother.

"What? We gotta hold hands?" Sam nodded. Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, just kill me now," he groused. John merely chuckled and took Sam's hand. Sam lowered his head and his brother and father followed suit.

Sam searched his mind for the words, and although his family wasn't highly religious at least in terms of praying and church going he felt he had to thank the proper channels. He took a shaky breath. "Ggg…God," he stammered with nerves and John gave his hand a gentle squeeze to reassure him. "We www…want ttt…to thank you for this past year. We're thankful for Dean bbb…being out of the hos…pit…al and fff…feeling bbb…better. And it's good that dad is back and here with us. I'm thankful that I'm getting bbb…better. I'm thankful for my …" he paused a second. "For my family and having us to…ghether. And, thank you for the fff…food. Amen."

"Amen," Dean and John replied in unison. Dean didn't trust his voice to say moreright away as he fought the emotional tightness in his throat. John felt a hot sting in his eyes, and smiled.

"Well done Sammy," John broke the silence. "And since you did such a fine job you get first dibs on the turkey. How much do you want?" Just stood up with a carving knife to cut off slices from the turkey. Sam pointed and John cut. "Is that enough?"

"Yes," Sam held his plate up and his father put the meat down.

"You still like dark meat Dean?"

"You know it," Dean chimed in as Sam busied himself by looking over the various side dishes Dean deftly cut his brother's thick turkey slices into more manageable bites. He finished just as his father severed off a turkey leg and held it up on a serving fork to put on Dean's plate.

**Later that Night**

The Winchester men all lounged around the TV watching sports on ESPN. Now, having cable was a treat and all three men seemed captivated by the 200 digital channels that lie at their fingertips. "I'm stuffed," Dean complained.

"Well, if you hadn't eaten like it was your last supper maybe you wouldn't be ready to explode," John's voice was amused.

"I feel fine," Sam answered with a combination smug amused look.

"Bite me Sammy," Dean grumbled. "You eat like a girl."

"Do not."

"Do too."

"Boys," John's tone dropping into parental warning.

"He started it," Dean turned wide innocent eyes to his father.

"Uh-huh," he said surveying his boys. "Well … I'm finishing it."

Dean was about to give his father a wiseass rebuttal when the phone rang. "I'll get it," Dean said as he reached beside the couch to the end table for the phone. "Hello?"

John watched his son's face and could see a fleeting moment of tension cross his face. "Yeah, it's been a long time," Dean said to the mystery caller. "Uh-huh, let me get him." Dean pulled the phone down from his ear, and handed the phone to his father. John looked at his son confused, and whispered.

"Who is it?"

"It's Joshua." John's face took on a serious look and now he understood why Dean had tensed up. It seemed their quiet family life was finally being invaded by the old familiar life of the Winchester family … hunting and the Supernatural world had finally found them and came calling again. Dean and Sam exchanged looks as John got up and carried the cordless phone into the kitchen.

**To Be Continued**

**Many thanks in advance for any and all reviews … they are excellent motivation. I appreciate them. Let me know what you think of this chapter or the story. Thanks.**

**Read and Review!**


	17. New Reality

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thanks for all the reviews for chapter 16. And, I will try to update at least once a week, maybe more … if time and life permit. I don't want to short change you or the story by hurrying up and making it shorter. I'm going to try to see it through to the end and keep my original plans for it, hopefully.

Thanks again for reviewing!

**Chapter Seventeen**

**New Reality**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Be courageous and be brave …may your guiding light be strong…may you never love in vain…whatever road you choose I'm right behind you win or lose…"_ excerpt by Rod Stewart, _Forever Young_

John leaned against the kitchen counter holding the phone with one hand and scrubbing a hand across his face. "Joshua I don't know that I can," John replied to the speaker at the other end of the phone line. "I've got my boys and things have been quiet."

"John, I know," Joshua conceded on the other end of the line.

"No, you don't know," John's voice lowered into a protective parental warning timbre. "Sam is still recovering and Dean was just in the hospital not long ago with pneumonia. I just …"

"It's almost local John," Joshua countered. "It's in Tipton… you could be up and back in an hour or two. Look, I wouldn't have called you, but you're the closest. It's a simple hunt John a pissed off poltergeist giving a family a problem."

"No hunt is ever simple Joshua and you know that. And, the fact it's in Tipton doesn't matter. I have bigger concerns right now. I have my boys. I promised not to hunt." John's voice wasn't wavering.

"Hey, take Dean with you … in and out."

"I can't take Dean. Look I don't think…" John was interrupted by Dean's voice in the kitchen.

"Dad, Tipton isn't far," Dean suggested. "Do it. Sammy and I understand. I mean … if someone needs help."

"Dean how long have you been listening?"

"I only caught the last couple minutes. What is it anyway? Ghost or something."

"It's a poltergeist giving a family trouble." John answered.

"Then help them." Dean's face was unreadable and John didn't know how to take it.

"Joshua I gotta call you back. I need to talk to my son's." John hung up with his friend. "Dean?"

"Dad if someone needs help then go. It's not like Tipton is the other side of the world. It's an hour maybe," Dean suggested.

"But, I promised. Someone else could do this."

"No one is better at poltergeists than you dad." John looked at his son thoughtfully and then frowned.

"Where's your brother?"

"On the couch still," Dean answered. "I told him I wanted to talk to you." He studied his father. "Only thing is you shouldn't handle a poltergeist alone. Is Joshua going to be able to come?"

"No, it would be a solo job."

"I could help," Dean suggested and then looked pensive. "But, we can't leave Sammy alone."

"Why nnn…not?" Sam complained from the entrance to the kitchen. Dean shook his head slightly to himself. He had been caught. "I could go." Sam suddenly suggested.

"No way Sammy!" Dean responded quickly.

"I'm as ggg…good as you are," Sam raised his voice. "I ddd…don't need to ttt…talk to a pol…ter…geist to kill it."

"Sammy it wouldn't be safe," Dean countered. "You can't run and you know it."

"Boys stop bickering. Sam your brother's right you can't come on the hunt. You could get hurt."

"So… you and Dean ccc…could too." Sam reasoned.

"Yeah," Dean chimed in. "But, it's different with you Sammy. There's no way you're going." John felt the stress building and this wasn't going to end amicably and he knew it.

"Sam…" John began.

"No!" Sam shouted. "You and Dean thh…think I'm dis…abled, don't you? Dean says I ccc…can't run. I talk dumb ttt…too. You think I can't hhh…hunt."

"Sammy we didn't say that kiddo," John tried to smooth things over. "You're not disabled son … you're healing from a near fatal head injury. You need time to mend."

"Sammy…" Dean stepped forward and Sam took a step back.

"No! I ddd…don't care. You go," he shouted. "I hate hun…ting always did. You and Dad go."

"We can't leave you alone Sam," Dean interjected.

"I'm an adult," Sam answered with anger. "I can bbb…be alone."

"No you can't," Dean said simply.

"Up yours," Sam shouted.

"Sam," John tried to calm his son.

"I can bbb…be alone. I can."

"No you can't," Dean replied again.

"Why not?" Sam barked. Dean didn't say anything he turned anxious eyes to his father, but John had the same look. "Answer me!"

"Because…" Dean supplied without further elaboration.

"Not an an…swer," Sam replied. "It's bbb…be…cause I'm different now, right? Right!" Sam bellowed.

"Yes!" Dean shouted in return and then he desperately wanted to pull the response back into his mouth. He wanted to take it all back. He watched Sam's eyes lose their angered intensity and mist up almost immediately. Sam looked simply stricken as his brother and father looked on. John and Dean could see the unshed tears welling in Sam's eyes as the boy turned and left without another word. Both men stood stock still, and the next noise they heard was the slamming of Sam's bedroom door. Dean dropped his head in shame and self loathing.

"God, what did I do?"

"It just slipped Dean. It'll be okay," John tried to console his son. Dean's head jerked up.

"What are you nuts? He's never going to forgive me. I basically just admitted to him that I think there's something wrong with him … that he's different since the head injury. But Dad I just can't have him on a hunt it's too dangerous," Dean relented. "If something happened to him…"

"I know Dean," John replied. "I feel the same way. There isn't anyway that I would let Sam come on a hunt right now. If he had all of his mobility back and his hand fine motor skills weren't still an issue, maybe…" he hedged. "But, even then I don't think I'd feel comfortable."

"Me either," Dean agreed. And there it was … both men loved the youngest member of their family intensely, but fundamentally no matter what _way to go_ and _it'll get better _statements or _nice job on rehab_ comments they said to Sam they both without having ever really admitted to themselves had accepted that Sammy would probably never be the person he was before he collapsed. And, no matter what time passed he still had issues that neither of them felt comfortable leaving him alone with. Both men feared the seizure disorder. And, despite Sam not having a single break through seizure since taking his medication there was always the chance. And, the possibility of other seizure disorders always loomed over their heads. "So … how long do we leave him alone in his room?"

"He's pretty fragile right now," John replied. "But … I don't like him getting that worked up."

"Yeah," Dean knew what his father was saying. He too was worried that Sam's emotional states sometimes contributed to new on set seizures and had a tendency to amplify them.

"Maybe we can give him ten minutes and then check on him?" John suggested.

"Yeah," Dean conceded. "That sounds good." John saw the lost and stricken look on Dean's face and smiled warmly.

"Dean, son … he knows you didn't say that to hurt him. He'll be fine. And, if it helps I'll back you up. I mean … I have the same apprehensions that you do." Dean offered his father a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

**Ten Minutes Later**

John walked with Dean down the hall to Sam's door, and couldn't help, but smile at the paperclip Dean was opening up. "Paperclip? You think we're going to need that?" John whispered with an amused voice despite the situation.

Dean looked at his father deadpanned, "What? You think he's going to open the door willingly," Dean replied with a hint of sarcasm. "And, I guess it's better than kicking it in, huh?"

"You have a point, but we should at least knock," he suggested. John raised a hand and knocked gently. "Sammy? It's dad and Dean. Can we talk to you?" There was no reply, no noise, and the door remained locked.

"See I told you," Dean said quietly under his breath. "Sammy," Dean spoke. "I'm going to pick the lock if you don't open the door. I'm sorry that I said what I said Sam. Just let me explain." There was still no response. "Okay we're coming in," he warned. Dean opened the door with ease.

The room was empty and the window was open with the screen removed. Sam was gone.

"Fuck!" Dean hissed as he quickly turned on his heel. John took in the situation quickly and followed his son.

"Dean, just relax," John tried to calm his son. "He couldn't have gotten that far."

"It's after 10:00 Dad … it's dark and cold out there. Jesus! He could be anywhere. This is Sam we're talking about."

"Okay, look we're not going to find him if we're both worked up. You need to calm down Dean." His oldest child drew in a deep breath. "Good," John replied. "Now, we should look around the outside of the house first … I know the chances are small, but…"

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "But, then we gotta hit the streets dad. It's supposed to get below zero tonight because of that cold front and they said we could really get hammered with snow. Sammy didn't take a jacket. Dammit, he left his ID, his med-alert bracelet and cell phone, shit!"

**The Winchester House 1:00 AM**

John and Dean had driven around looking for Sam for nearly three hours with no luck, and now they were both feeling the effects of raw panic. "I'm going to call the police," John said as they walked back into the house from their search. It had started to snow around 10:30 and roads were becoming much more hazardous. They had experienced some white out conditions while driving around which made the search even more difficult and dangerous.

"Dad, it's freezing out we gotta find Sammy," John could hear the desperation in his oldest child's voice.

"We need the police Dean. Sammy isn't stupid, okay? He knows to get out of this weather."

"But…" Dean began and hesitated. And John didn't need to hear anymore because his mind had thought up the same possible nightmare scenario … what if Sam had had a seizure and was unconscious out in this weather. He would die from hypothermia before they could find him and with the speed of the snowfall and accumulation it was likely that Sam would be covered up.

"I know," was all John said and Dean nodded. "We'll get him home Dean." John dialed the local police station's number. "Yes, I'd like to report my son missing," John began.

"How long has he been missing?"

"Since 10:00 tonight, but with this weather and he left without a jacket or his ID."

"How old is he?"

"Twenty-four."

"Sir, unless he's a minor we can't officially declare him missing or endangered for seventy-two hours."

"No, my son needs to be found."

"Sir, kids his age almost always show up sooner or later." The police officer answered casually. "Unless he has a health condition that could have his life in danger or he's impaired in some way…" John cut him off.

"He has a seizure disorder. He could be out there unconscious somewhere for all I know dying from hypothermia."

"Seizures? Is he on medication?"

"Yes."

"Has he had his medication today?"

"Yes, but that's beside the point. The medication doesn't guarantee he won't have one. And, he was upset when he left and that could trigger an episode."

"Upset? Family dispute?"

"It was a misunderstanding of something that was said. He was upset."

"Sir, I'm sure he's just blowing off steam."

"Look he has a medical condition, so the department has to look for him."

"Sir, I understand you're worried … I'm a parent myself, but your son is over the age of consent." The officer hesitated. "Is he mentally impaired?"

"Is he mentally impaired?" John echoed what the officer said and Dean turned wide eyes to his father. "He," John's mouth suddenly felt like it was filled with cotton. "He has some cognitive delay issues from a head injury he received a year ago."

"Cognitive delays? So you're saying he is challenged?" The officer was clarifying.

"Challenged, no!" John hissed. "My son isn't handicapped, but …" he paused. "Look he can't be unsupervised. And, why we are wasting time my son could be hurt or dying."

"Fine," the officer conceded. "I'll put out an APB for your son. What was he wearing? How tall is he? What is his hair color and length?"

"He was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt…"

"What color shirt?"

"Shit," John hissed. "Dean what color of shirt was your brother wearing?"

"Damn dad … I'm not sure."

"We don't know."

"Okay," the officer replied. "How tall is he?"

"6'4" and he has short brown shaggy hair with long bangs.

"Okay, I'm going to try to send an officer by to get a picture, but the weather is playing havoc with our ability to get anywhere quickly. If an officer can't make it to your home I will send out his description to all of our car computers, and the units that are out currently will be on the look-out for your son."

"Thank you. What do we need to do?"

"Stay put … I know it's hard, but in case he comes home or something you should be home. And, the roads are getting pretty bad. The transportation department didn't expect it to hit so fast and the salt trucks aren't able to keep up with the snowfall."

"Fine," John groused. "But, please call or send a unit if you have any updates."

John hung up the phone and sat down dropping his face into his hands. "They are putting an APB out for your brother. The probably won't be able to make it here for a picture the way it sounded, but they have put his description out on all of the car computers. They'll find him Dean."

"He's gotta be okay Dad." Dean replied as he sat heavily on the couch next to his father. John reached out an arm and patted Dean's leg with a hand.

"We'll get Sammy back."

**The Winchester House, 7:30 AM, Saturday Morning**

John cast tired eyes to Dean's dozing form next to him on the couch. His oldest child had been sleeping in small catnaps all night while they waited for word. He had called the station for an update, but they had no leads on Sam when he spoke to them last around 5:00 AM. Sam had been missing for over nine hours now, and John felt half sick with worry. There was a knock at the front door and John rose quickly. Dean stirred next to him. "What is it?"

"Someone's at the door," John answered as he hurried to answer it. He opened the door to reveal a police officer standing there.

"Mr. Winchester, I'm Officer Delane."

"Hello, have you found my son?" John wanted to get straight to business.

"Sir," the man hesitated and John felt his stomach fall. Dean stood next to his father.

"Where's my brother? Did you find him or not?"

"Dean … let the officer speak," John chastised. Dean nodded.

"Sir, we aren't sure, but…" The officer was young and John knew he was having trouble saying what needed to be said.

"But, what?"

"There was an accident last night. A driver lost visibility during a white out and wasn't able to stop as someone walked out into the street. The car struck the individual. It was a young man matching your son's general description and had he no ID with him."

"My god," John replied. "How bad was he hurt?"

"Sir, we aren't even sure it was your son. We need you to identify the body in order to be certain."

The words hadn't sunk in immediately with Dean or John and the oldest Winchester replied quickly, "just take me to the hospital. I need to know if my son is okay."

"Sir, he isn't at the hospital," the officer reasserted himself. "I need you to identify the body."

"The body," the words fell out of John's mouth like rocks.

"Yes, sir." The officer replied. "As I said we aren't even sure it is your son, but we need to be sure. The young man that was hit was pronounced at the scene. I've been instructed to take you to the County Morgue. Dean was silent and John turned to him.

"Dean it's not your brother okay," he tried to reassure, but even he wasn't sure. "Sammy's alive." He said out loud trying to console his son and himself.

The officer took both John and Dean to the morgue. John and Dean both sat in a small waiting area inside the morgue. John's eyes were fixated on the frosted glass swinging doors near the end of the hall. The words: Storage in large black lettering seemed imposing. He knew what was behind those swinging doors. He visualized the wall of small silver refrigerator doors with rolling trays and each rolling tray bed would hold a body. And, he silently prayed that none of them held his baby boy.

"Mr. Winchester," a morgue attendant came out.

"I'm Steve, and I'm here to take you back to the identification area."

"All right," John stood on shaky legs and Dean followed suit. "No," John said gently putting his hand out to stop Dean.

"But, Dad … I have…"

"No, Dean. If…" John's voice trailed off and he took a breath. "I don't want you to see… if it's … I don't want you to carry that last image…" John couldn't finish his sentence. He just couldn't tell his firstborn that he quite simply didn't want his son exposed to that assaulting image of Sammy on a cold metal slab if this body was his baby son's. Dean relented and understood.

"I'll be here," Dean replied with a shaky voice. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. John saw his son's wet glassy eyes and knew Dean was on the razor's edge. He reached out and pulled his son into a quick embrace, and patted him on the back as they separated. Dean gave a tight nod and sat down to wait.

John followed the attendant through those horrible swinging doors. "The identification room is right here," Steve showed John to the door and John immediately saw the rolling metal gurney in the room. There was a covered body clearly beneath a white sterile crisp sheet. The room was cold and empty except for the gurney and the smell of death filled the room. "Mr. Winchester," Steve began. "The entire trauma was centralized to blunt force trauma to the chest … internal injuries, so…" he looked at John and could see the man's pale features. "There was no facial or head trauma." Steve didn't know what else to say, but he felt by telling John that there was no facial trauma at least the man didn't have to prepare himself for some mangled mess. "Are you ready?" Steve stepped over to the sheet facing John from the opposite side of the gurney.

John looked down at the sheet … every aspect of the body beneath was covered, but for a small bit exposing some hair. John could see shaggy chestnut brown hair peeking out from under the sheet and he felt a cold hollowness fill his chest. His eyes lifted to the morgue attendants.

"Yes, I'm ready," his voice shaking. The sheet was pulled back exposing the head and face of the unidentified young man and John looked down. He closed his eyes and silent tears slipped down his face. Steve looked up at John.

"Is this your son?"

**To Be Continued**

**Thank you in advance for the reviews of all the previous chapters. I have found reviews are excellent motivators to keep plugging along with this story. I hope you're still enjoying it. Let me know.**

**Read and Review!**


	18. Hanging by a Moment

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:**

FFnet has had some uploading issues, so it has taken longer to post the intended update. I tried around 7 this morning and on and off since when I had time. Now I think it's working.

Thanks for reading and reviewing! I know you had to wait a little bit for this update, sorry! But, with my time constraints I did what I could and did it as fast as possible. It's a long chapter, so that should make you happy. There is a lot going on in this chapter. I hope you like it. I never imagined that chapter 17's cliffhanger would elicit so many reviews. Thank you so much!

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Hanging by a Moment**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Mama, put my guns in the ground. I can't shoot them anymore. That long black cloud is comin' down. I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door…"_ excerpt by Bob Dylan, _Knockin' on Heaven's Door_

"Is this your son?" Steve asked as he watched John close his eyes and saw the silent tears. "Mr. Winchester?" Steve urged. John opened his eyes to answer him.

Dean sat silently ringing his hands obsessively as his emotions peaked. His mind silently making deals with God that he'd make things right with Sammy. He'd explain he hadn't meant to hurt him. He heard the swinging doors creak and he looked up and saw his father coming down the long hallway. He stood immediately. John met his son's eyes and Dean saw the drying tracks of tears and he felt a violent shudder cascade through his body. "Dad?" His voice caught in his throat. John walked up to Dean and pulled him into a sudden and hard hug.

"It wasn't Sammy," John's voice gruff as he held his child against his chest. Dean squeezed his father tightly.

"It wasn't Sammy," Dean repeated his father's words. John felt his son tremble in his arms and squeezed tighter.

"No," John pulled back new tears filling his eyes.

**The Winchester House, 10:00 AM**

John and Dean sat silently in the kitchen each with a hot cup of coffee in front of them. The morning's events had drained them dry. The morgue would be an experience they would carry with them the rest of their days. The kitchen phone rang and John leapt up from his seat.

"Hello?"

"Yes. You did! Oh thank God," John let out a calming breath. "Is he okay?" Dean stared at his father hanging on every word. "Thank you," John replied to the caller on the other end and hung up.

"They found Sammy?" Dean's words rushed forward. "He's okay?"

"Sammy's fine. He took shelter at the bus station to wait out the weather," John spoke evenly. "He's okay. They are bringing him home."

"The bus station … on the other side of town!" Dean barked.

"Apparently," John conceded. Neither man had thought Sam would go that far, and they would never underestimate the kid again.

"If he's in one piece I'm going to kill him," Dean hissed. "Damn I think I aged ten years from this little adventure of his."

"Now, Dean," John replied. "I'm upset too, but we gotta tread lightly with your brother. We don't need him running off again."

"Yeah, well … that isn't gonna happen again," Dean asserted. "If we gotta put alarms on the windows or whatever."

"Let's not turn it into a jail Dean. Things are going to work out. He's just having a difficult time. I think we have to put ourselves in his shoes. He knows things are different since his head injury and I think he's realizing that he may never get back everything he lost." Dean nodded.

**Twenty Minutes Later**

A police officer brought Sam to the front door. "Lose something," he said lightly. "He's not much of a talker." John smiled.

"Sammy? You okay?" he asked his son. Sam simply nodded. John reached out and pulled his youngest child tightly to his chest and held him for a long moment. Dean stood behind his father watching the embrace. He also used the time to look his brother over for any injuries. "Thank you for bringing my son home." John said as he released Sam from his arms.

"No problem," he answered. "I spoke with the bus station clerk and she said he never asked about buses or anything. He just went in to get away from the storm and then the snow drifted and the station sort of had to be dug out."

John extended his hand to the police officer. "Thanks again." He nodded and left.

John closed the door and turned his eyes to Sam. His son stared at the ground and John noted a small shiver work its way through him. He was about to ask Dean to get something warm for Sam, but Dean was too quick for him. "I'm on it," he left the room quickly.

"Here Sammy sit down," he reached out and touched his son and felt the slight chill in the skin of his exposed arms. Sam pulled back slightly retreating from his father's touch. "Sam?" John encouraged. Dean emerged with a sweatshirt for his brother.

"Sammy, put this on over your t-shirt," Dean instructed and Sam complied. Dean felt conflicted and guilty. But, his need to touch Sam won out. He reached down and put a hand on Sam's unruly mop of hair. Sam turned his face up to meet his brother's. "The hell with it," Dean mumbled and bent down pulling his brother into an awkward embrace as he stooped and Sam sat. "Don't do that again kiddo," Dean mumbled into his brother's shoulder before he pulled away from Sam.

"Sam," John began. "You had your brother and I worried sick. We drove around for three hours looking for you and then we had to call the police." Sam sat silent not meeting the eyes of his family. "Sammy do you understand that they took us to the morgue this morning to identify a body they thought could be you?" Sam's head jerked up and he looked at his father.

"Sorry … I didn't mmm…mean to stay gone. I was mmm…mad. I needed to ggg…get some air. But the sss…snow. The mor…gue?"

"Yes Sam the morgue and it's an experience I never want to go through again." John answered as he looked at his watch. "Dean would you go get your brother's medication he hasn't had a pill yet and he's overdue."

"Yeah," Dean jumped up and went down the hall to the bathroom where Sam kept his seizure medication. He came back with a pill and a Dixie cup filled with water. "Here." Sam took it without question or complaint.

"Sam," John asked with intense eyes. "Were there any seizures last night?"

"No," he answered quietly. There was a long moment of silence. "I don't want to be diff…erent," Sam's sad eyes looked from his father to his brother. "People think I'm retarded," his voice shook. "Police talked to me like I'm five. Cus…tomers at the li…library treat me like I'm _special_ and nnn…not in a good way. People treat me like I'm a tard."

"Oh, Sammy … why didn't you say something? You know you can talk to me and Dean about anything." Sam just looked at his family.

"Am I?" His voice broke and silent tears streaked down his cheeks. Dean felt his heart shatter at the sight of his little brother.

"No," John consoled. "Sam you had a horrible head injury and you're healing. You have come so far Sammy. Give yourself time." John soothed.

"But even you and Dean thh…think I'm diff…erent. You won't lll…leave me alone to go on a hhh…hunt. You won't lll…let me hunt."

"Sam," John replied. "Your brother and I are just worried about your seizures and we don't like you to be alone and we can't risk you getting hurt on a hunt."

"Dad's right Sammy. We just worry," Dean replied. "I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I'm sorry … I was an ass."

Sam nodded at his brother to indicate he accepted the apology. He looked at his brother and father. "I was alone last night … all night. I'm fine. I'm not a kid."

"I know you're not Sammy." John agreed. "It's just you're still healing," he offered. "You can't protect yourself if something were to attack."

"Attack?" Sam looked at his father as if he were nuts. "House surr…surrounded with salt … pro…tection amulets buried outside and hung inside. No…thing will get in."

"Yeah, well, some things don't seem to be phased by certain stuff," Dean chimed in.

"The demon," Sam offered. "He hasn't come. He won't. Please, people need your help. You and Dad go tonight and hhh…help that family… up and back same night."

"Sam," Dean began.

"No, Dean," John interrupted. "Let's try it okay? If Sam thinks he's ready to be left alone for a little bit … let's try it." Sam turned expectant eyes to his brother.

"Dad," Dean's tone was one of confusion and concern.

"Sammy, do you mind if I talk to your brother alone for a minute?" Sam shook his head. "We're just going to the kitchen. We'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay."

Sam sat in his room surfing the net on his laptop waiting for his dad and brother to finish preparations for the hunt. He turned when he heard a knock on his open door. "Mind if I come in?" Dean asked from the door.

"No," Sam answered. "You and dad rrr…ready to go?"

"Almost," Dean was hedging. "Um, Sammy … I wanted to talk to you about…"

"It's okay," Sam replied cutting his brother off.

"No, it's not," Dean's eyes were upset. "What I said in the kitchen last night … I'm so sorry Sammy. I don't want you to think that I think there's something wrong with you. I just worry and …" Dean dropped his eyes from his brother. It was still strange for him to be so emotionally open with his little brother, but things had changed and they called for Dean Winchester to change, as well. "Sammy I couldn't handle it if you got hurt or something happened and I wasn't there for you. That's why I don't like you alone."

"I know," Sam's eyes were sad as he stood from his desk and sat down on his bed. "Dean I don't www…want ttt..to be like this," Sam's eyes filled with unshed tears. "People treat mmm…me diff…erent and I hate it."

"Sam," Dean's voice was hesitant. "Everyday you make some kind of improvement and you're doing your rehab. Maybe some things won't come back 100 percent, but we're not going to ever give up trying to get you there."

"I know you've given up a lot fff…for me …" Dean cut his brother off.

"We're not having that conversation again little brother," Dean replied. "I've told you before that I haven't given up anything. Anything I've done or will do is because you're my brother, okay? And, you'd do it for me," Dean assured. "I just want to make sure we're okay," Dean started. "When you were missing all I could think about was what if something happened to you and it was my fault you left. Nice job with the window by the way," Dean said with a small grin. "But, you try that stunt again … gimp or not I will kick your ass." Sam laughed out loud and was secretly elated that his brother had made the joke because to Sam it meant that Dean was being Dean and in that moment there was no dark shadow of the head injury or its long term repercussions looming over them and his older brother was treating him as an equal with that good natured jab at his physical status.

"Sss…sorry I made you and dad worry. And about the mor…gue…"

"Don't Sammy," Dean replied. "I just want to forget that ever happened, okay? I don't even want to think about it. You're here and safe and that works for me."

"Okay."

"Dean!" John called from the kitchen.

"I better go see what dad wants," Dean suggested. "He's probably just about ready to leave."

"Are you ex…cited?"

"It's just a job Sammy," Dean answered.

"You miss it … don't you?" Dean smiled and decided not to lie to his brother. Sam could read him to well anyway.

"Yeah, sometimes … I guess, but I'm okay with not doing it," he quickly asserted not wanting Sam to get the wrong idea and feel guilty about anything.

"You and dad bbb…be care…ful." Sam replied not addressing the issue any further of his brother returning to the hunt after a year.

"We will."

"Dean!" John called a second time.

"Better go see what the old man wants before he blows a gasket." Sam smiled. The youngest Winchester was happy to see his brother and father bonding again, although he knew that Dean was still apprehensive about their father leaving Sam could see that slowly each day Dean was letting some of his walls down around their father. Sam knew the turning point was when John had been there for Dean in the hospital during his bout with pneumonia. Sam was just happy to see some of that glint back in his brother's eyes and tonight he saw a look of excitement in his brother's face that only a hunt could put there. Sam got up from his bed and headed for the kithchen.

Dean and John prepared to leave for the hunt. John had called Joshua back and had said he and Dean would help the family in Tipton, but they had to finish and be back tonight. They had agreed to allow Sam to stay home alone, but he had to promise to stay inside and they would check in with him. Sam walked his Dad and brother to the door. It was early evening and they planned to be back no later than 9:00. "Remember keep the door locked Sammy, and if you have any trouble…" Dean's voice was anxious. Both Dean and John had their concerns, but they needed to show Sam that they did believe in him, and they also wanted to help a family in obvious need of help.

"I knn…know," Sam rolled his eyes. "I call you and Dad…"

"And, if you don't feel well or you have a seizure or something," Dean countered.

"Call 911, I knn…know Dean. Not stupid."

"I know you're not," Dean replied.

"You sure you're okay with your brother and me leaving Sammy?" John asked.

"I'll be fff…fine dad. Go."

**One Week Later**

The hunt had gone off without a hitch and both men were reminded of the thrill of the hunt. They had been excited with the adrenalin of the hunt, but eager to return to Sam at home. They had called him frequently eliciting complaints from him, but everything had been fine. John and Dean both contemplated taking occasional jobs that were nearby, but for right now they'd stay close to home, and not make hunting a habit. They both had jobs, rent and bills to pay. And, Sammy still had his rehab.

Christmas was only three weeks away and it would be the first they spent together as a family in years. John had come home from work one afternoon with an artificial tree he purchased at a store across the street from the garage he worked at and his boys had seemed surprised. Dean had actually bought some discount ornaments for it and some tinsel. He even brought back a yellow star that lit up for the top.

"You boys want to grab a bite to eat at the McFulley's Diner?" John called out down the hall. Dean had been home from work about an hour and he knew his boys would be hungry.

"Yeah, sounds good. Give me ten minutes,' Dean called out from his room. John waited in the kitchen. He was tired. It had been a long day at the shop. He rubbed his jaw absently. It ached and had been aching on and off most of the day at work. _Probably going to have to see the damn dentist_, he complained silently in his head. He was sure he had pulled something in his left arm and shoulder today too … it was tense and ached. He worked it up and down like a bird wing._ Getting older sucks_, he thought to himself. Dean walked into the kitchen as John finished his shoulder stretch.

"Trying to fly," Dean commented with a smile.

"You're a real comedian, huh?" John replied. "You just wait until you're my age Dean. Things will ache you didn't even know you had."

"You're not ancient dad, geez," Dean countered. "Come on Sammy!"

"Coming!"

"Dean, do we have any antacids around here?"

"Huh?" Dean answered distractedly. "Uh, yeah, the cabinet by the fridge … I think there are some Tums in there. Stomach bothering you?"

"A little," he paused. "I just think I need to eat. I wasn't really in the mood for lunch today."

"Yeah," Dean answered.

The diner wasn't too crowded for 5:00 on a Thursday. The Winchesters talked and Dean and Sam tore into their food. John had poked at his food. "You okay Dad? You haven't touched your food." Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm good. Upset stomach. A couple of the guys have had the flu and cold's and I think I may have caught a bug. It'll pass."

"Get a doggie bag," Sam commented. "Maybe, you'll want it later," he suggested.

"Yeah, good idea Sammy." John smiled.

**Later that Evening**

John walked into the kitchen to get a coffee. Dean and Sam were lounged on the couch watching the movie _Predator _on the Sci-Fi channel. He grabbed a clean mug from the dish drying rack. He was trying to hurry so he could get back to the movie while commercials were playing. He turned to walk to the coffee pot as a sharp pain lanced through his chest. He grunted as he raised his free hand to massage his chest. "Damn," he whispered to himself as he leaned against the counter. The pain was gone as quickly as it had hit. He straightened up and started for the coffee pot again, but this time the pain returned more powerful than the last wave and he staggered. The ceramic coffee mug slipped from his unfeeling fingers and hit the hard kitchen floor shattering. John slowly fell to his knees clutching his chest. _Oh God, not like this … not with my boys here_, his mind repeated the litany of words over and over.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was casual as he walked toward the kitchen. "You drop something?" Dean walked in and saw his father on his knees. His skin was pale and sweat beaded on his face. "Dad!" He yelled sliding to his knees at his father's side.

"Dean," John forced out through the pain. John pitched forward and Dean caught him easily lowering him to the kitchen floor to lie on his back. "Feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest," John panted as his face twisted in pain.

"Jesus, Dad!" Dean unbuttoned the top of his father's flannel shirt quickly. He could feel his father's skin beneath his touch it was cold and clammy. "Hang on," Dean grabbed the phone dialing 911. "Sammy! Come here!"

"911 what's your emergency?"

"My father," Dean began as he felt the panic rise. Sam had come into the kitchen and immediately went to his father's side. "I think he's having a heart attack."

"Is he breathing? Have you loosened the clothing around his neck?"

"Yes, please, just hurry!"

"EMS is on the way. Your address is showing as 2440 Willow Bend Ave., is this correct?"

"Yes, please hurry." Dean knew there was a firehouse with paramedics nearby and he all ready heard the sirens. I hear them."

"Okay, I'll let you off the line." Sam kept talking to his father as John continued to pant and clutch at his chest.

"It's okay Sammy," John forced out. "Don't you boys worry."

"Dad, just be quiet okay. Sammy go let the paramedics in. I can hear the sirens."

**Capitol Region Medical Center's Emergency Room**

Dean and Sam sat side by side waiting to hear about their father. The paramedics had moved so quickly starting an IV and hooking their dad up to various portable monitors for transport to the hospital that it had all been a blur. They were instructed to come in their own car because they needed room to work in the ambulance. Dean and Sam had hit traffic and the ambulance had all ready arrived with John ten minutes prior. All Dean knew was that they were told their father was in a trauma room and they would be given news when they had some.

John Winchester was in and out of consciousness and the physical pain was the worst he could recall ever experiencing. "Mr. Winchester? I'm Dr. Jay. I need you to rate your pain from 1 to 10." The doctor had been asking questions and talking to him non stop since they had rolled him into the ER.

John grunted in pain. "10 … Christ it feels like a house fell on my chest." The doctor nodded as he consulted John's EKG.

"Mr. Winchester…"

"Call me John."

"Okay, John," the doctor replied. "You're showing ST elevations with T wave inversions," The doctor continued to say a few more things, but John's attention was waxing and waning.

"English, Doc," John grimaced in pain.

"You're having a heart attack," the doctor answered flatly.

"Really?" John tried for a moment of humor and surprise. "I hadn't figured that out. Look my boys…" A new wave of pain lanced through his chest and he gasped.

"John don't worry about your son's right now. I'm sure they're out in the waiting room. Let's get you stabilized first." John grunted again and clutched at his chest frantically for a brief moment and his head suddenly lulled to the side as his heart monitor wailed. "Sonofabitch," the doctor hissed. "He coded. Start compressions." A nurse started compressions on John while another placed an ambu-bag over his face to begin ventilating him. "Hold compressions," the doctor spoke. He looked at the monitor. "He's asystole. Push a high dose epi. Resume compressions."

"Come on John work with me here," the doctor spoke to his patient. "Hold compressions."

"He's in VF," a nurse called out.

"Okay, gotta shock him," Dr. Jay replied. He grabbed the defibrillator. "Charge to 360." The doctor placed the defib paddles against John's chest. "Clear!" And, the shock was delivered to John's chest and his body arched violently off the gurney.

"Still in VF," a nurse called out again.

"Resume compressions. Give him an amp of Lidocaine." Dr. Jay instructed. "Come on John think about your kids. Fight dammit! Hold compressions."

"Still VF."

"Okay, charge the paddles to 450. Clear!" He delivered a second shock to John's chest.

"No conversion. Still VF."

"All right, get me a cardiac needle and an amp of epi." The doctor took the large needle and drew up the epi. He palpated John's chest near his sternum and drove the needle straight into his heart and injected the epi. He fisted his hand and gave a hard thump on John's chest trying to stimulate his heart. "Resume compressions."

The team struggled to save John's life. "What's his down time?"

"Ten minutes."

"Okay, continue compressions. Get me an ET tube. I need to intubate him, now." Dr. Jay quickly inserted the breathing tube. "Okay hyperventilate him. He's looking a little cyanotic."

The room was working at a fever pitch. Everyone had a duty and they were doing it. "Hold compressions."

"Still VF."

"Charge to 500," he yelled as he placed the paddles against John for a third time and delivered the shock. as John's chest convulsed upward with the electrical current.

"He converted," a nurse yelled out. "We got him back. Pulse thready."

Another nurse came running in with John's blood work results and the doctor looked at them and knew based on what he was all ready seeing with earlier exams and the monitors coupled with John's other symptoms he was in bad shape. John's blood work showed evidence of cardiac enzymes confirming the heart attack on paper and the doctor shook his head. "Allison," Dr. Jay called out. "Look I gotta talk to the family and get permission for a clot buster before he codes again and we don't get him back. Get the med ready. This guy is losing heart muscle as we speak. If we don't hurry there won't be a heart that can be saved." The nurse nodded.

Dr. Jay ran out to the waiting room. "Family for John Winchester?"

"That's our Dad," Dean answered quickly.

"Hi, look I know you have a lot of questions, but I have to be quick. I need you to sign this consent for a clot buster. Your father is having a massive heart attack and I believe that without a clot buster he will die." He looked at both young men and saw the fear. "Your dad will die without the clot buster medication, but there are risks …" he began. "There is risk of stroke, and bleeding into the brain among others. And, right now he is losing heart muscle. And, my goal is to preserve as much as possible."

"You're saying he will die if we don't use this stuff, but, he could still die from the drug?" Dean's voice shook.

"Yes, unfortunately. But, there isn't much option at this point. We will monitor him closely for any adverse effects from the medication," the doctor answered. "Your father's heart has all ready stopped once. If it happens again I don't think we're going to get him back." Dean was at a loss for words. His father's heart had actually stopped beating once. He signed the consent form in a blur and the doctor was gone yelling over his shoulder that when he had news he'd tell them. Dean and Sam sat back down both silent.

Dean and Sam sat side by side waiting and watching the clock. There had been a long stretch of silence between the two brothers. Dean's mind was reeling from the events of tonight. His mind trying to come to grips with the possibility that their father might not survive this attack. Sam had taken to nervous chatter and somewhere in the recesses of Dean's mind he heard his brother's voice. It seemed non-stop as pieces began to sift into Dean's hearing. Sam felt compelled to just keep talking about anything that popped into his head, and he found talking about how he learned to repair a book binding at the library the previous week was something worth conveying in his nervousness.

"And sss…some…times the leather bind…ings are old and want to crr…crack, so you have to bbb…be…" Dean snapped.

"Sammy what in the hell are you talking about? Jesus, our father is having a heart attack. Hell he could be dying right now," Dean hissed. "And you're talking about …what? Book bindings! Damn," he spat. "I can't deal with you right now," he stood up abruptly. "I need a coffee." He stalked away toward the coffee machine across the ER lobby. Sam sat silent and suddenly felt completely alone in a room full of people. He hadn't meant to upset Dean. It was just nerves. Sam looked up and saw some of the people in the waiting room looking at him. He guessed they had heard his brother go off on him, and possibly had heard his meaningless chatter, as well. He stood up glancing at his brother's back across the room getting a coffee. He dropped his head and walked away down a random hall to get some space from his upset brother. He didn't go far and took a seat further down the hallway.

Dean watched as the coffee cup descended and filled his cup. He felt bad that he had snapped at Sam, and he'd fix it later, but right now he was too worried over their dad to think straight. He felt as if one more thing went wrong he'd snap like a twig. His plate was too full, _hell it's been too full for longer than he cared to add up_, he thought to himself. He pulled the cup from the dispenser and noted it was one of those poker cups that give you a card hand on the side and below the cup is the final card. He glanced at the bottom of his cup and noted with a bemused snort that he had a full house. "Figures," he grumbled to himself… _good luck exactly where you don't need it_, he thought silently.

Dean glanced back at the seating area and quickly noted that Sam was not where he had left him. "Goddammit!" He hissed. "I don't have time to coddle you Sammy," Dean grumbled. But despite his anger anyone that looked at Dean could see the edge of panic in the young man's eyes as he scanned the room quickly for his errant brother.

"Excuse me," an older woman spoke from her seat in the lobby. Dean looked at her.

"I saw the young man you were with go that way," she pointed down a hallway.

"Thanks," Dean answered with relief. "Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome."

Dean walked urgently down the hall and he didn't have to go too far when he saw Sam sitting in a small bank of chairs with his head down. He also noticed the small tremor shaking his brother's left arm and hand. It was small, but he quickened his pace. Dean's anger from the lobby was forgotten quickly. He sat down next to his brother and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay Sammy just take long slow steady breaths, okay? It's not a bad one." Sam lifted his face and looked at his brother and Dean saw the tears streaking down his face. "Hey, hey," Dean said softly. "You're okay. All right? It's not bad. Just stay calm and it'll be okay."

"Sss…sorry I walked away," Sam's voice hitched in his throat.

"No, Sam I'm sorry I snapped. I know you were just worried and it was your nerves talking," Dean assured.

"Still sss…sorry." Dean nodded and put a comforting arm around his brother.

"Well, look at that," Dean replied. "The seizure's over and it wasn't bad at all." Sam nodded. "How long was it happening before I got here Sammy?"

"Couple minutes," Sam responded.

"You see," Dean said with a comforting smile. "It was gone in under six minutes," he replied looking at his watch. "You think you're up for going back to the lobby? I mean, we can see the ER doors from here, but I'd like to be closer." Sam nodded. "Okay, kiddo let's go. Now, I want you to try to relax Sammy. You don't need to have a bigger seizure like the one you had at Ivy Ridge that one time, okay?" Sam nodded.

"Dean…" Sam's voice trailed off and Dean knew what was being left unsaid. He put a comforting hand on the back of his little brother's neck and gave a gentle squeeze.

"He's a Winchester Sammy … Dad's too stubborn to die." Dean said the words trying to console his baby brother, but he was also trying to convince himself too. His mind wouldn't stop running scenarios and he couldn't stop the one thought that kept plaguing him … _what if this was the one thing John Winchester wouldn't walk away from alive?_ Dean and Sam returned to the ER lobby to await word on their father's condition.

**Four Hours Later in the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit (CICU)**

"Your father is one tough fellow," the doctor commented. "We've managed to stabilize him and the clot buster looks like it worked its magic."

"But, I hear a but coming," Dean replied.

"But… he's in critical condition. We have him stabilized on various IV meds right now, and we've been able to halt the active heart attack. You need to know that he won't be out of the woods for a few days. We are working very hard to keep his cardiac status as stable as possible. He isn't conscious and he's been given a mild sedative to insure he remains in a relaxed state. He's on a ventilator right now and will be until I'm sure he's out of danger.

"What are his chances? I mean, you stopped the heart attack, so …"

"Your father is tough I'll give him that. There aren't many men that could have been resuscitated after the heart attack your father had. But, as I said he is in critical condition and I can't really give you a percentage. He's fighting, so that counts for something. Once he is more stable and out of critical condition I'll be assessing the damage to his heart more thoroughly, but right now we're just trying to keep him stable. He was asking about you both right before he arrested."

"He was?" Dean's eyes softened for a moment.

"Yes, he was very concerned about the two of you.

"Hey Doc," Dean's was hesitant. "My dad's in good shape, but this heart attack…" he paused. "I mean … I've heard stress and stuff can lead to this, and…" The doctor smiled reassuringly as he knew where this was going.

"You didn't do this to your father … neither of you. Yes, stress can be a contributing factor, but it is only one domino in an entire chain of events that led to this. Diet and family history … you name it," he comforted. "There are many factors. Internal and external. This isn't your fault."

"Thanks," Dean wasn't sure he was convinced that the stress of his relationship with his father since he returned hadn't helped to push his dad into the attack. But, the life and diet of a hunter like his dad had become since the fateful night in Lawrence would and probably has taken a toll.

"Now, I can't let you both in at the same time, but you can each visit him for 10 minutes separately." Sam looked at his brother.

"You ggg…go Dean. I ccc…can wait."

"You sure Sammy?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, but sit here in the chairs. I'll be back in ten minutes."

"I'll www…wait hhh…here." Dean smiled and followed the doctor.

"Must be difficult?" The doctor commented idly to Dean as they walked toward John's room.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Your brother," the doctor commented. "Was he born with the speech deficit? I noticed a medical alert bracelet too."

"Huh? No, he was in an accident a year ago. He suffered a bad head injury. The bracelet is for a seizure disorder."

"Oh," the doctor replied. "Is he okay on his own? I mean, can he be unsupervised? This is an intensive care unit for heart patients." Dean stopped and looked at the man.

"Look, I appreciate everything you're doing for our father, but my brother isn't any of your concern. Yes, he's fine to sit and wait. He doesn't need supervised like some kind of puppy. You know he was a Stanford student … he's not stupid, and I expect everyone in this unit to show him the same respect as anyone else. He has some speech issues and some other problems, but they aren't your concern." Dean was enraged, but keeping his voice level and calm. He didn't want to get thrown out of CICU before seeing his dad.

"I didn't mean to offend, but it is my concern in this unit," the doctor added. "Is he emotionally stable enough to handle seeing your father? It could be very upsetting to him if he doesn't understand the magnitude of what's going on … there are machines and IV's it could be upsetting. And, I'm not comfortable with him being unsupervised while he visits your father."

"What are you saying? Look he can handle it, okay? It's not like he's going to start screaming like _Rainman_ or something. My brother isn't mentally challenged and I'll be damned I let him be treated like he is. He is dealing with enough."

"My point exactly."

"You know if you don't want him unsupervised then I'll stay with him while he visits."

"No, there isn't room for two visitors and having more than one inside will impede your father's care and should there be a crisis we need to act quickly. The rules of one visitor at a time are in place for a reason."

"Fine, then he'll visit on his own."

"No, I can't allow it. He'll have to wait until your father's condition is upgraded and moved out of the CICU to the Cardiac Care Unit or what we call CCU."

"So what you're saying is that you're not letting my brother see my father? He could die, right? You aren't keeping my brother away from our dad. You call his neurologist Dr. Rose Myers at Ivy Ridge Rehab Center and she'll tell you he's fine to visit our dad. He's in out-patient rehab now. He can handle this."

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor began. "I understand your distress, but it is for father's own well-being."

"All due respect Doc … that's a load of crap. My dad will want to know where Sam is, and you'll be the one upsetting him if he can't see Sam. Call Dr. Myers. He handled me in the ICU a few weeks ago with pneumonia and it was here in this hospital and no one kept him out."

"I'll speak with his neurologist, but he isn't seeing him tonight. I'll call Ivy Ridge tomorrow to ascertain his mental stability with his brain injury."

"Whatever," Dean was angry, but he wanted to see his father. "Where's my dad?"

"In that room," the doctor pointed. "10 minutes, and should you have any questions about your father, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Yeah," Dean's tone was harsh. The doctor sighed.

"Mr. Winchester," he began. "It isn't anything personal, but I have to think of the big picture and providing the best care for your father."

Dean let out a long put upon sigh, "I heard you all right. I just want to see my dad." And with that Dean walked into his father's room. A nurse was just finishing up with hanging another IV bag, and adjusting what Dean saw was the ventilator settings. She smiled and walked out of the small cubicle. Dean noted that most of the free space was filled with equipment and IV poles. There was a bedside computer console where the nurse did her charting and scanning of drugs before they were administered. Finally, Dean took a breath and stepped toward his father's bed and really looked at him for the first time since stepping inside. Dean's initial reaction was a sharp intake of air. He stared at his father and felt fear. John was unmoving and his chest rose and fell at the will of a machine. Dean scanned the wall of monitors and watched the up and down blue electronic arches on his dad's heart monitor. He listened to the beeping and found some comfort in its constant rhythm. Dean never thought he could feel more fear than he did in this moment. He wasn't prepared to feel at a loss standing at his father's bedside. This feeling he knew well… he was accustomed to it when sitting at Sam's bedside willing him to live. But, he hadn't been prepared mentally to see John Winchester sick and most of all fragile. He studied his father's pale features. He looked almost gray and when Dean reached out and touched his father's arm the skin felt cold to the touch. Dean found himself absently stroking his dad's arm to try and infuse some level of warmth.

He found the intrusive oxygen tube snaking down his father's throat a bit daunting, but he had made it through watching Sammy on life support he would get through this. "Dad," his voice caught and Dean cleared his throat and tried again. "Dad, it's me Dean. Ah, the doc says you're going to be just fine, okay? So, don't getting ideas about bailing on Sammy and me. Got it?" Dean watched his father's still features and it hit him that he and Sam could lose their father. Hot tears welled up in Dean's eyes and he fought against the emotional onslaught rising up in him.

"Listen Dad," Dean's voice had a pleading quality to it, and had John been conscious it would have floored him. "I thought I could stay mad at you the rest of my life, but I can't. Sam was right to remind me about what I wanted back in Chicago when he was in rehab. I wanted the three of us back together again. Dad … we all make mistakes. Look you left Sam and me and maybe I'm still pissed about it, but that doesn't mean I want you to die. We're getting back on track dad," Dean urged.

He held his father's slack hand mindful of the IV tubing jutting from the top of his hand secured on a thin board with medical tape. "Come on Dad … we got Christmas in three weeks," he commented idly. "I mean … you bought a tree and everything. You're going to be okay. You keep fighting dammit. Sam and me are here, okay? And, don't worry about Sammy I'll make sure he takes care of himself and gets his meds. Uh," Dean looked at the clock on the wall and it was almost 10 PM. "Listen dad the doc is only letting me visit once every hour for ten minutes, and my times almost up. Um… he won't let Sammy see you because…" his voice trailed off for a second. "Because he's an idiot, but he's calling Dr. Myers tomorrow so Sammy will be here to see you in the morning."

"Mr. Winchester," a nurse came stood at the opening to John's room. "Your ten minutes are up. I'm sorry."

"All right, but I can come back, right?"

"Yes, you can come back the last ten minutes at the bottom of the hour."

"Okay, I'll see you at 10:50. Uh, if there is any change or anything my brother and I are just around the corner in the CICU waiting area. And, you have my cell number should we be in the cafeteria or something, right?"

"Yes, I have your contact numbers cell and home and I can also have you paged overhead. And, if you need anything or have a concern … I'm your father's night nurse, and my name's Connie."

"Thanks Connie."

Dean walked into the small waiting area in CICU. The room was just outside the automatic doors that led into the unit. There were only five chairs in there, and right now its sole occupant was his rather distressed looking younger brother. Sam stood when Dean walked in. "Hey Sammy, you doin' okay?"

"I'm fine. How's Ddd…dad? Ccc…can I ggg…go in now?"

"Listen Sammy sit down I gotta talk to you." Sam's eyes were alarmed as he sat instantly.

"No, no Sammy," Dean was quick to allay his fears. "Dad's holding his own right now, but here's the thing," he trailed off. There was no easy way to broach the subject, so he just had to jump in. "Dad's doc is worried about you getting upset, and he doesn't think you can be in there right now." Dean saw the hurt cross his brother's eyes. "Sammy he's going to call Dr. Myers tomorrow and talk to her and you know she'll say you can handle seeing dad. The doc is an idiot."

"I ttt…told you people ttt…think I'm a tard. I'm nnn…not. I want ttt…to see dad."

"Sammy I know you do kiddo, but it's not happening tonight."

"No!" he snapped back.

"Sam keep quiet," Dean warned. "They hear you yelling they'll never let you see dad while he's in there no mater what Dr. Myers says."

"I not sss…stupid. I just www…want ttt…to sss…see ddd…dad." Dean turned to Sam detecting his brother was getting too upset as his speech began spiraling out of control.

"Sammy you gotta calm down, okay? You all ready had a small seizure earlier. Please, I now you're upset. I am too. But, tomorrow the doc will clear you."

"Ddd…dad could die," Sam blurted. He stood up and paced the small confines of the room and flailed his arms up and down in irritation.

"Sam sit down," Dean got up trying to urge his brother back to a seat. "Relax, okay?"

"No! I'm nnn…not dam…aged. I want to sss…see…" his voice fell off quickly and Dean's eyes darted to Sam's face. Sam was grabbing his head, and suddenly Dean recognized what was happening … it was a vision, but this time something else was different. He watched in horror as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed against Dean. "Oh shit," he hissed as he realized with sudden clarity that a seizure and a vision had just clashed. It was the perfect storm. The seizure coupled with the synaptic explosion of the vision caused the minor seizure to crescendo into a full blown violent episode Dean had never witnessed before. He did the only thing he could, "Help! Somebody help me!" He tried to keep Sam from hurting himself as the seizure grew worse. As he stared at Sam's face he felt a cold pit of terror replace where his stomach used to be as his heart hammered in his chest.

He heard running feet coming down the hallway and all he could do was try to protect his brother's violently bucking head from hitting the floor. "Help! In here!"

Dean kept panicked eyes on his little brother's face as he heard footfalls fast approaching. Sam's lips were beginning to turn blue and frothy foam began to slide out the corner of his mouth. "Sammy!" Dean screamed. "Please! He's turning blue." Two nurses and a doctor burst into the small waiting room. The seizure wasn't stopping and Dean suddenly felt himself pushed back as the doctor moved into his previous spot.

"Christ," the young doctor hissed. "Get a damn crash cart. This kid isn't breathing. Dammit get me some Phenobarb, now! He needs to be bagged!" The doctor saw the med-alert bracelet, and roughly flipped it and glanced at Dean. "He has a seizure disorder?"

"Yeah, but never like this," Dean's eyes were horrified. "He has Jacksonian seizures … never this."

"Is he on medication?"

"Yes, Dilantin 100 mg."

The staff poured into the room and began administering injections of drugs and it all seemed a blur to Dean. They fought against Sam's convulsions to attach a heart monitor and pulse ox. He watched the doctor push the Phenobarb into his brother and waited for the seizure to stop … it always stopped, but this time not fast enough. "Dammit, that's it," the doctor barked. "I gotta paralyze him now! Before we lose his pulse. We'll just administer the paralytic reversal drug in the ER."

Dean watched the doctor prepare a vial and draw the drug up into a needle and inject it into his brother's IV line they had managed to start while someone had held his arm down. Within forty seconds the seizure began to slow and within a minute and a half Sam was completely still. "Hyperventilate him," the doctor instructed. "He's cyanotic." The nurse increased her bagging rate with the ambu-bag. "Hold off a second," the doctor said after he was certain Sam's oxygen SAT's had come up to an acceptable level. Dean watched the doctor listen to Sam's chest and the doctor frowned. "He's not having spontaneous respirations. I gotta tube him." Dean felt sick as he watched his brother intubated. He hated this and he had never wanted to see it again. Memories of Sam's coma accosted his mind. Dean blamed the vision for this extreme seizure, as another part of him wondered what the vision had been about. Sam was loaded on a gurney that would take him to an elevator leading to a trauma room in the ER.

"I want his neurologist called. I have her pager number," Dean snapped out of his stunned stupor at the events he'd just witnessed. Dean gave the information and rattled the number off by heart. The doctor attending Sam wrote the information down. "I mean it," Dean asserted. "I want her called. She is his doctor."

"We'll have her called right away. But we need to provide him with some immediate emergency care to stabilize him." Dean nodded out of reflex more than coherent thought.

He was torn between his father and his brother. His father was clinging to life and his little brother wasn't conscious or currently breathing on his own. He had reached his last straw and stood stock still, absolutely frozen in the hallway as he looked at the doors to CICU and turned and watched the gurney with his brother begin to wheel away. He couldn't do this alone, and felt so overwhelmed that he knew his grip was starting to slip. He pulled out his cell phone and filed through the programmed numbers and pressed send. He knew it was late. But, something in him was desperate to hear one voice he hadn't heard in a while, but knew could help him not lose it completely. He needed help. His world was falling a part. His entire family's lives seemed to be precariously balanced at the edge of a large precipice. He felt torn, desperate and at a loss to be of any help for his dad or his little brother. His life was unraveling at an alarming rate, and he felt the pull of dark thoughts and unbearable loss. He needed a life preserver now. The other end of the connection rang three times before a sleep inflected voice answered, "Hello?"

"Missouri?" Dean's voice shook and cracked in desperation.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, let me know what you think. A lot of stuff happened in this chapter, I know. I hadn't planned on combining two of the events, but it sort of worked out that way and I went with it. I appreciate your reviews and comments! They are excellent motivators for more chapters. **

**Read and Review!**


	19. Give Me Shelter

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thanks for the reviews on all of the previous chapters! This chapter is the longest one yet. I had so much to cover. I hope you enjoy this latest installment. Let me know how I'm doing. Thanks again!

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Give Me Shelter**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_I'm so tired, but I can't sleep, standin' on the edge of something much too deep. It's funny how we feel so much, but we cannot say a word. We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard …"_ excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _I Will Remember You_

"Missouri?" Dean's voice shook and cracked in desperation.

"Oh, Dean, honey," she soothed as images and thoughts assaulted her mind. Missouri could feel the panic and fear rolling off Dean. The tsunami of emotions was threatening to sweep her away until she closed off her mind to the onslaught hitting her.

"I know it's late, but you're the only person I could think to call," his voice cracked. He still stood in the hallway unmoving. Sam had disappeared into the elevator and was headed to the ER.

"It's okay," Missouri comforted.

"I don't know what to do Missouri," Dean pleaded. "Dad's in critical condition and Sammy's on the way to the ER. I don't know ..."

"Your daddy had a heart attack?" Missouri prodded. She had to see if she was in tune with Dean's thoughts.

"Yeah, and Sammy…" Dean voice fell off. "I need…"

"Dean, honey I can be on the first plane to you."

"Missouri?" Dean's voice sounded lost.

"Dean, listen to me," Missouri's voice was gentle, but commanding. She had read his thoughts and knew everything she needed to know. "Go to the ER and be with Sam. Your father is in good hands right now," she comforted. "I know you're torn, but it's gonna be okay. You hear me?" There was a long silent pause. "Boy, answer me! I'm not talkin' to hear my own voice." She knew she had to take the bull by the horns with Dean Winchester. "You hear me!"

"Yes, ma'am," Dean's voice was quiet.

"And, none of that ma'am crap either," Missouri replied. "I will be on the first flight out of here, and don't you worry about a thing." Missouri jotted down hospital information and assured Dean she would be there.

Dean glanced at his watch as he snapped his cell phone closed. "Damn, it's been twenty-minutes all ready." He left for the elevator filled with a strong need to see his little brother.

**The Emergency Room**

Dean rushed from the elevator and headed toward the ER main desk. "My brother Sam Winchester was brought down from the second floor," Dean was breathless. "Where is he?" A woman looked up from behind the desk clerk that was tapping Sam's name into the computer.

"It's okay Laura," the woman patted her shoulder. "You're the older brother?"

"Yeah….?" Dean eyed her. "Where is my brother?"

"Dr. Miles the resident that began treatment upstairs has turned the case over to your brother's physician," she glanced at her paperwork. "Ah, a Dr. Myers, correct?"

"She's here all ready?"

"Yes, she was in town having dinner apparently when she received the page," the woman smiled. "She was two blocks over … uncanny really."

"You said my brother is in the MRI," Dean's eyes were anxious. "Should I go there?"

"No, Dr. Myers said she'd come get you here or up in CICU when she had some information for you. I'd suggest you just go back up to the waiting room in CICU and she'll contact you there. I'm positive she'll put your brother in ICU around the corner from CICU for observation purposes." Dean felt torn yet again, but he knew the woman was right. "I doubt they'll be back to the ER at this point. There is a treatment room across from the MRI should they need to treat your brother further before taking him to ICU."

"Okay," Dean answered absently. "And, she knows for sure that I'm in CICU?"

"Yes, she's been made aware of your father's status and that you're in the unit."

"Okay, thanks." Dean wandered back to the elevator as if in a fog. He felt on sensory overload, and knew a crash was coming, but he couldn't afford it right now. His entire family was in immediate danger and his thoughts were consumed by that one notion. His one comfort was that he knew Missouri was on her way. His relationship with the feisty woman from Lawrence had been a bit rocky, but he still felt she was the one person he could turn to for help and her psychic abilities might come in handy.

Dean was about to hit the button for the elevator, "Mr. Winchester!" He startled at the shout and turned to see the woman he had spoken to just a minute ago holding a phone away from her ear and her eyes looked concerned. Dean ran toward her.

"What is it?"

"You're needed in the MRI Treatment Room … the doctor wasn't specific, but she said she needed you right away. Here," she said putting the phone down. "Follow me, those treatment rooms are hard to find." Dean followed her all the while his heart pounding. As they approached a long vacant hallway accessible to medical staff Dean could hear his brother screaming his name.

**Treatment Room MRI 2**

Dean saw Dr. Myers and waved a thank you at the woman that led him here and he ran to Sam's doctor. "Dean! Dean!" Sam's yelled.

"Dean," Dr. Myers saw the older brother approach.

"Let me in there he's screaming for me," Dean barked.

"He's altered Dean … he regained consciousness shortly after the MRI and yanked his breathing tube before we could even stop him." Dean stared at her.

"Altered?"

"It's common after a lengthy seizure, but his reaction is a bit extreme" the doctor replied. "But, I thought I better have you come down. I just need you prepared."

"Dean! I www…want my brother! Dean!" That was all Dean needed to hear and he burst into the room surprising the staff. He went to Sam's side on the gurney. They had put restraints on him as he thrashed around.

"Sammy, shh…" Dean soothed as brushed back his brother's bangs. "I'm right here, calm down Sammy."

"Dean," Sam's voice quieted, but his eyes were frantic and slightly glassy. "Dad…"

"He's holding his own Sammy. But, we gotta worry about you right now. You gotta calm down." Sam lifted his head off the gurney pulling against the restraints.

"No," Sam replied. "Dad's in ttt…trouble." His voice was a mere raspy whisper.

"Sam … dad's holding his own." Dean comforted. Sam looked at the medical staff standing nearby listening including Dr. Myers.

"I need to ttt…talk to hhh…him alone," Sam forced out his eyes still holding their frantic and glassy appearance. Dean looked up at the staff, and Dr. Myers nodded to them to leave as she could see Dean was having a calming effect on Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean studied his brother.

"Vvv…vision Dean," Sam whispered. "Dad … I saw a clock … it said 11:30 … I don't know… ttt…they said it www…was another clot. They ddd…don't catch it, Dean," Sam's voice hitched. "Save dad or he'll die." Dean's eyes were intense as his eyes switched from his brother's eyes to the wall clock in the room it was 11:00 PM and he bolted from the room. Dr. Myers and the staff just stared at his retreating figure and went back into the room with Sam who had settled down and no longer fought the restraints.

**CICU**

Connie spotted Dean as he hurried into the unit toward his father's room. "Is something wrong? I heard about your brother is he all right?"

"My dad," Dean looked at his father. "You have to get his doctor in here."

"Dean, your father is as stable as he can be right now. He's fine." Dean turned stricken eyes toward Connie and the sheer vulnerability and desperation in them gave her a sense of alarm. "What is it?"

"Connie, please, I know this is going to sound wacko, but…" Dean didn't know how to approach this, but his father was running out of time and if Sam's vision was right their dad would die tonight and soon. "There's another clot forming."

"What?" Connie looked at her patient who's vitals she had just checked and hadn't noted anything additional wrong.

"Look you can think I'm nuts … I don't care, but there is something happening and if it isn't caught soon…" Dean turned his eyes from Connie and stared at his unconscious and very still father. His eyes glanced toward his father's heart monitor. "There! What was that?" Connie's eyes darted to the monitor.

"His rhythm is stable considering the heart attack." She tried to reassure.

"No!" Dean insisted. "Please, just watch." He knew he had seen something a little flicker, something was off. And, as he stared at it for what seemed like an eternity as the minutes ticked by … there it was again. "You saw that right?"

"Yeah," Connie walked over to the monitor and started a tape printing. It was a brief ST elevation followed by a PVC and Connie was sure she had seen it. And, then the tape picked up another one. It was transient, but then John's monitor showed a run of three PVC's and she knew Dean was right … something was happening. The clock read 11:15.

Dr. Jay was given a STAT page to CICU, and he ran in from a nearby unit, and before Dean knew what was happening he was pushed from his father's room and told to wait in the CICU waiting room. He had caught only the tail end of one of the doctor's orders as he retreated to the waiting room … _administer a Heparin Bolus 5,000 units. We gotta thin his blood._

**CICU Waiting Room, 11:45 PM**

"Dean?" And, he darted his eyes upward from the floor to look at Dr. Myers. He stood.

"How's Sammy?"

"Much calmer. He was sleeping soundly in the ICU when I left. I gave him a mild sedative. I'm going to keep him there over night for observation, but I think I'll be able to move him to neurology tomorrow and I'll either release him in the late afternoon tomorrow or early the following day. I'll decide tomorrow."

"Release him?" Dean was taken aback. "He was blue. And foaming from his mouth," he stared at the doctor wide-eyed. "What happened? That wasn't like any seizure I've ever seen him have."

"Sam suffered a grand mal seizure Dean." It was the one thing Dean was hoping not to hear. "They aren't easy to witness especially if you're family. And, often people … well in a sense hold their breath while seizing, but his prolonged and from what I was told very violent sudden onset most likely caused the respiratory arrest, but he began spontaneously breathing on his own in the ER, and as you know subsequently pulled his own tube out before we could stop him."

"I've looked at his new scan and the lesion on his brain isn't that much bigger, and shouldn't pose a grand mal threat. I will be adjusting his medication and adding another med to his daily regimen. I believe his emotional state may have exacerbated the problem."

"He had an episode earlier in the ER when we were waiting. But, it only lasted maybe six minutes. It was just his arm and hand like usual. Did I screw up? Should I have got him to a doctor?"

"No, Dean," Dr. Myers consoled. "You've been dealing with the Jacksonian seizures for awhile now, and you handle them properly. You could have never seen this coming. Look," she paused. "I know you've got a lot to deal with right now with your father, but Sam is going to be okay. This won't set him back. I've examined him and there doesn't appear to be any permanent damage from this seizure. When he's released though," she began. "I'd like him to rest at home for at least a couple days."

"Sure, I'll have him tied down if he won't stay put." He replied as he rubbed a hand through his hair as a stress release. "Um, my dad's doctor won't let Sammy see him. He was going to call you tomorrow. Can you go make sure the doctor knows that Sam can handle seeing our dad?"

"Sure."

"Ah, something was happening and they shoved me out … but they haven't come back out."

"How about I go see what's up and I'll talk to your father's doctor. Who is it anyway?"

"Dr. Jay," Dean supplied.

"Oh really," she said with a smile. "I know his father quite well. I'll go speak with him."

"Thanks." Dean watched the doctor walk out and he sat back down. He wanted to go see Sam, but he had to know if their father was okay. He was silently thankful for Sam's vision, but cursing the fact it could have killed his brother when it coupled with a seizure. And, he was a little troubled by the nature of this vision. After all, the common triggers weren't present … the demon or a link to another psychic kid. _It was possible his abilities were growing_, Dean thought. No matter the reason he felt thankful because their father would have probably died. But, right now he just wanted to know how his father was doing.

**CICU Waiting Room, Midnight**

Dean was exhausted as he heard voices and approaching footsteps. He stood up just as both Dr. Jay and Dr. Myers walked in. "Dean?" Dr. Myers spoke first. "I just wanted to tell you that Dr. Jay has no problems with Sam seeing your father once Sam's released from the hospital and cleared off prescribed home rest."

"Thanks, and what about my dad?" Dr. Myers turned to Dr. Jay.

"Well, that's my queue to leave. I'm going to swing by ICU one last time to check in on Sam, and then I'll be heading out. I'll be back tomorrow to check on him … probably around 8:30 or 9:00." Dean smiled and nodded. He turned his attention back to his father's doctor.

"Well? How is he?"

"Alive," Dr. Jay replied. "You know if that clot hadn't been caught when it had your father was headed for a second attack, and in his condition it would have killed him."

"But, he's gonna be okay?"

"He's stabilized. I've given him some anti-coagulants to thin his blood, and we've started him on a couple other IV meds," the doctor commented. "He's still in critical condition, but I'm hopeful."

"Can I see him?"

"Well, I suppose, after all, Connie tells me you're the one that brought her attention to his heart monitor. I'll walk you in, so Connie doesn't chase you off."

"Thanks," Dean replied.

"No problem," Dr. Jay stopped and looked at Dean. "Um … I feel like I should apologize for earlier and my reaction to your brother. I was wrong. And, I didn't know anything about your brother to make assumptions about him. Uh, I should have trusted your word about him. I asked Dr. Myers about him … I'm glad he's going to be okay."

Dean was still angry, but he cut the doctor some slack. He could tell the apology was genuine. "We all make mistakes Doc. Can I see my dad now?"

"Sure."

Dean stood by his father's side watching him. "Dad?" his voice was a mere whisper. "Looks like Sammy's weird head saved your ass," he commented with a slight smile. "Uh, don't worry or anything okay. Sam sort of ended up in the ICU, but Dr. Myers says he's just in over the night for observation. He's gonna be fine. I'll make sure he's good." Dean paused. "I called Missouri dad. I had to. I'm drowning and with Sam needing home rest when he leaves it'll work out. I just can't be in two places at once and right now I think you need me more." Dean felt strange talking to his father like this. "I feel like I let Sammy down dad … I've hardly been there for him tonight, but you're…" Dean picked up his father's cool hand and held it. "You need to keep fighting dad for Sammy and … for me, okay? You promised you wouldn't leave again."

"Dean?" Connie stuck her head in. "I hate to cut your visit short, but the doctor ordered an echocardiogram for your father before he heads out for the night."

"Oh, okay. Can I have one minute?"

"Sure."

"Um, dad they're shoving me out. I guess you're having some test or something. Look Dad I'm going to tell your nurse that I'm going to be in ICU with Sammy. I'll be back."

**Meanwhile, ICU, Sam's Room**

Sam was pulled from his sedated slumber with thoughts of his father. He didn't know if he had been able to warn Dean in time, and the blatant lack of his big brother's presence unnerved him. His room was quiet except for the quiet beep of his heart monitor and the occasional beep from his IV pump as it cycled. His room had a window and the moonlight filtered in through the closed blinds. He raised his head and looked around his room examining the shadows out of habit. He felt desperate for news about his father. He felt inadequate at being able to help is brother … and now he was in ICU, yet one more weight on his big brother's all ready burdened shoulders. He felt his eyes start to burn with hot tears. He dropped his head back on his pillow his face wet with silent tears. He felt his hand and arm begin to twitch as a nurse walked in.

She saw he was awake as she entered. "I just wanted to check …" her voice trailed off when she saw the localized seizure activity and immediately referred to Sam's chart to read the written doctor orders. She read the orders and proceeded to administer the medication that Dr. Myers had left charted should there be any seizure activity. "Its okay sweetie," the nurse comforted. "This will fix you right up. It's okay." There was a noise at the door and the voice brought Sam's head around on his pillow.

"What's wrong? Is my brother okay?" Dean's voice was alarmed.

"He was having a small Jacksonian seizure, but I just gave him some medication. He'll be fine." Dean looked at his little brother and saw his tear streaked face.

"Can I see him?"

"Of course. Just yell if you need anything."

"Thanks." Dean walked to Sam's side instantly. "Hey, what's wrong?" He hated seeing his brother's tears.

"How's dad?" Sam's eyes were afraid.

"Well, psychic wonder … if it hadn't been for your vision dad would have had another heart attack. They were able to stop it. He's still critical, but he's as stable as they can expect. Now, Mr. Change the Subject … what the hell's going on? What has you so worked up?" Sam turned his face away as a shiver worked its way through his body.

"Nothing. I'm okay. Ggg…go be with dad. I'm ggg…good."

"Hey, I just came from there okay, so I can't see him again for another hour. I'm exactly where I want to be." Sam shook his head.

"I'm sss…sorry," he offered as he turned his eyes away.

"Sammy, what about? There isn't anything to apologize for."

"First Dad and then me," Sam began.

"Stop right there kiddo," Dean's voice stern, yet gentle. "You had a vision Sam, and it mixed with a little seizure that turned into a big one. It wasn't your fault. You got it?"

"But…"

"Don't but me," Dean chided. "It wasn't your fault, and if it hadn't been for that vision we would have lost dad. You saved his life Sammy."

"You got him the hhh…help," Sam added.

"Well, you told me what was wrong. Look," Dean began as he studied his brother's pale and tired features. "You've been through the ringer tonight … I want you to get some sleep. Um… I called Missouri Sammy," Dean saw his little brother's eyes go wide with surprise. "We need the help. The doc says you're going to be on home rest for a couple of days or so and then you can see dad," Dean explained. "And, that works out because Missouri can stay with you while I stay with dad."

"I ddd…don't need a babysitter," Sam's voice was soft and sounded defeated.

"She's not here to babysit Sam," Dean replied. "But, look man you had a grand mal seizure and I'm not messing around with that. If I let you stay home alone and you have one … you could die and you know it. Hell, you had one right here in the hospital and I still coulda lost you." Sam looked at his brother and saw the raw emotion in is eyes. He also saw a haunted look in Dean's eyes, and knew he was responsible for that.

"It was bbb…bad?" Sam questioned.

"You scared the shit out of me little brother," Dean's answer was bluntly honest. "I don't want to see another one of those seizures as long as I live. I really thought I was losing you right there on that floor." Sam didn't know what to say. It wasn't an all together rare event these days since his head injury for his brother to be more affectionate with him and open, but this admission was brutally honest and it stunned Sam.

"I'm sss…scared Dean," Sam turned soulful eyes to his brother.

"Hey Sammy, you're going to be fine man. The doc said so. She's taking good care of you … always has."

"Www…what if the visions ccc…cause more seizures?" This was a question that had been plaguing the back of Dean's mind since it occurred.

"We'll figure it out Sammy. It's going to be okay. And, this was the first vision you've had since we were in Salvation. I think it was just bad timing … you know a seizure because you were all worked up and then the vision hit." He felt he was grabbing at straws to reassure his brother, but he couldn't just not try and comfort Sam. It was what he did. Sam nodded. He wasn't sure he believed his big brother, but he knew that Dean needed his reassurances as much as he needed them from his big brother.

"When is Miss…ouri getting here?"

"She said she'd take the first plane out." Sam smiled. He was glad that his brother would have someone he could depend on since at the moment he wasn't able to help him the way he needed it.

"You nnn…need to sleep Dean." Sam offered.

"I will," he replied. "But not just now. I don't want you worrying about me getting sleep Sammy."

"You'll mmm…make yourself sick," Sam offered.

"No, I won't make the same mistake twice Sammy. I'm not landing back in the hospital. I promise." Sam decided he wasn't going to push. Dean was on the razor's edge and Sam wasn't going to be the extra push.

"Ggg…go see dad," Sam urged. Dean looked at the clock in Sam's room.

"I will after you fall asleep," he replied with a smile.

**Twenty Minutes Later, Sam's Room**

Dean sat watching Sam sleep. His breathing was deep and steady. He found himself watching his brother's body for the slightest twitch or tremor. He was thankful that his body remained at peace. He watched the steady natural rise and fall of his little brother's chest and found comfort in the fact it wasn't mimicking their father's mechanical rise and fall. He brushed his hand gently against his brother's bangs and smiled warmly. "Sweet dreams Sammy," he whispered and left the room. He stopped at the nurse's station and spoke to Sam's night nurse Vicki. "If he needs me or there's a problem you can reach me in either the CICU or its waiting room." And, he left for CICU and the hopes of seeing his dad soon.

**CICU Waiting Room, 6:30 AM**

Dean had succumbed to sleep around 4:30 AM and had remained asleep in his chair. He thought he felt someone near, but his fatigue kept him under until a voice spoke to him gently. "Dean, honey?" Missouri's voice was soft and very un-Missouri like as she reached down and touched his cheek.

"Missouri?" Dean's eyes snapped open, but his voice was plainly sleep laden.

"In the flesh child," she smiled at him. "Well, let me get a look at you," she replied. She looked Dean over with an observant gaze. "You need some decent sleep and a good meal boy!" He laughed lightly.

"I ate," he offered. She turned and eyed the half eaten foil wrapped burger from the cafeteria.

"That isn't eating Dean Winchester. Now, first things first … I'm going to see that you eat breakfast and then we'll deal with everything else."

"But…" Dean looked at his watch and was surprised at the hour. "Man, how'd you get here so quick?"

"I told you I'd get the first flight out and I did. Now, pick your butt up and let's get some food into you."

"I need to be here Missouri. My dad and Sam," his voice trailed off.

"You won't do either of them any good boy if you ignore your own health. Move your back side child," she chided and he felt compelled to obey.

"I should tell them where I'm gonna be," he hedged.

"You've all ready told them how to contact you," she supplied as she leafed through his thoughts. "Now, stop stalling and come to the cafeteria for an actual breakfast." Dean complied.

**CICU, 8:00 AM**

Dr. Jay had begun his rounds and after seeing John decided to brief Dean. He walked into the waiting room and was surprised to see an African-American woman sitting with Dean. "If this is a bad time," he offered. Dean stood immediately.

"No, no," Dean answered. "This is a family friend. She flew in early this morning. This is Missouri Mosley," he introduced her. "And, Missouri this is my dad's doc … Dr. Jay." Dean paused as the two shook hands. "You can talk in front of her."

"Okay," Dr. Jay replied. "Your father is doing well this morning. His cardiac output his good and I will taper off the anti-coagulants today some time to a more maintenance level as opposed to an acute treatment level. And, the echocardiogram from last night actually looks pretty good. I was pleased with what I saw. I'm going to keep him sedated for another day or so and then I'll start reducing to allow him to wake up. And, once that happens I'll see about weaning him from the ventilator gradually."

"So, the second clot didn't cause any damage?"

"It was caught in time before it completely occluded the vessel triggering another heart attack and starving the heart muscle for blood. Your father is doing well considering where we were just yesterday when he was brought into the ER. I'll check back in on him later when I finish the rest of my rounds and consults."

"Thanks." Dean watched the doctor leave and turned to Missouri. "Well? Was he holding back?" Missouri smiled.

"No, Dean," she replied. "He's actually pretty optimistic about your daddy, but he won't tell you that just because … well, you shouldn't count your chickens before the hatch."

"Yeah, but he's optimistic, huh?"

"Yes," Missouri answered easily. Dean looked at his watch.

"Man, I gotta go see Sammy and it's time to see dad." Missouri put her hand out to calm him.

"One thing at a time child. Look you go see your daddy and I'll look in on Sam. After all, you've all ready shown me where the ICU is and told them I can see him. And, that nurse that took over his care this morning she seems very nice." Dean smiled. Missouri had always had a way telling him how its gonna be and he respected that.

"Yeah, that's Sue. She should be an honorary Winchester as many times as she's taken care of me or Sammy while in that unit. She's cool. But, I should see …"

"No, Dean," Missouri spoke. "You need to be with your daddy. Just trust me to care for Sam. Your brother is fine. And, after you see your father and I come back … I'm going to see you eat some breakfast." Dean nodded. Missouri turned to go see Sam in the ICU.

"Tell Sammy I said hi and you can fill him in on what the doctor said."

"Go see your father."

**ICU, Sam's Room**

He was awake when Missouri walked in. He smiled at her. "Hi Missouri," Sam spoke softly. "It's bbb…been a long ttt…time."

"Yes, it has. Too long," she replied. She walked over and took his hand over the side rails of his bed. "Oh, honey…" Sam looked away.

"Don't rrr…read me," he withdrew his hand. Missouri smiled and sat down beside his bed still keeping her hand near Sam just to provide him some comfort.

"I don't have to touch you to read your thoughts Sam. And, the way everything is just pouring off of you I can't block it all. Let me help child."

"How's Dean and my Ddd…dad?"

"Your brother is burning the candle at both ends and I'm trying to get him sorted out. Your daddy was given a good progress report this morning by his doctor." Sam turned hopeful eyes to Missouri.

"Really?"

"Yes," Missouri was about to say something else when Dr. Myers walked in. Sam did the introduction between the women. Missouri stepped outside Sam's room to allow Dr. Myers to exam Sam.

"Well, I see on your chart that you had a minor Jacksonian seizure last night, but nothing else." Sam shook his head.

"I www…want out of hhh…here," Sam complained.

"I understand that Sam … really I do. If I were you I'd be tired of any and all medical establishments. But, I'd really like to keep you in the neurology unit another day."

"Why? I'm fff…fine."

"Sam I know you feel fine, but you have to understand you had a grand mal seizure and with the small break through activity that occurred last night despite the anti-convulsive medications you've been given I'm concerned."

"I www…want to see my ddd…dad." Dr. Myers let out a long sigh.

"All right, I'll talk to his doctor and see about allowing you to see him once you're transferred to the neurology unit."

"That's on the thh…third floor … jjj…just let me go while I'm here." Dr. Myers smiled.

"Now, I know why your recovery has gone as well as it has … you're an extremely tenacious young man … I'm sure you give your brother and father a run for their money." Sam offered up a real smile. "Fine, I'll see what I can do. I think you're stable enough for a visit, but you have to promise me you won't get all worked up."

"Ppp…pro…mise."

**Twenty Minutes Later, CICU Waiting Room**

Dean was surprised to see Sam wheeled into the waiting room by Missouri. He was dressed in his hospital gown and a thin robe. "Well, the boy talked himself into a hall pass and visit with your daddy." Dean smiled.

"You okay for this Sammy?"

"I'm fff…fine."

"I'll take him Missouri." The woman smiled and took a seat as Dean wheeled his brother through the automatic doors. Connie looked up from filing at the nurse's desk as the two brothers approached.

"Hi there … Sam is it?"

"Yes."

"Well, Dr. Jay told me you'd be coming by this morning to visit your father. Now Dean is going to wait here and I'll take you in." Sam turned his face upward and looked at his brother. Dean smiled and nodded.

"It's okay Sammy. I can see you and dad from here. It's okay." Sam nodded and then turned his face toward his father's room. He could see his father through the glass window partition and Connie took him inside.

"I'll be back in ten minutes Sam. If you need me or your brother we're just outside."

"Thh…thank you."

"You're welcome honey."

Sam sat at his father's bedside and slid his hand under his father's. "Hi ddd…dad. It's Sss…Sam. I would hhh…have come sooner, but…" he felt frustrated by his speech and took a breath. "You're gonna bbb…be okay." Sam felt his father's cool slack hand in his own warm one. He studied his father's pale features and found himself looking at the monitors and equipment. "Was this www…what it was like when I was in a coma?" He asked his father not really expecting an answer. "Dean's been ggg…great dad. He's here fff…for you and me ttt…too. I worry about hhh…him." Sam paused a moment. "Miss…ouri is here now. Bbb…but … I bet Dean ttt…told you all ready." Finally Sam just wanted to sit with his father and squeeze his hand gently to let him know he was there. He decided there was no need for words.

"Sam?" Connie's voice was quiet behind him. "Time's up."

"All ready?" He asked not looking away from his father.

"Yes, I know it goes quick, but you can come back again." She took Sam out and gave him back to his brother.

"You good Sammy?" Dean asked as he put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Fff…fine."

"Well, let's get you back to ICU. I know Dr. Myers is having you transferred to the third floor this morning."

"No, you shh…should stay here," Sam encouraged. "Miss…ouri will take mmm…me back. You visit with ddd…dad. It's your ttt…turn."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, let me take you back to Missouri and I'll do my ten minute visit with dad. Look Sammy I'll be there when they take you up, okay?" Sam smiled and nodded.

"Only if you can," Sam concentrated to make his words come out right.

"Trying to get rid of me little brother?" Dean said with a chuckle as he wheeled Sam toward the waiting room that held Missouri.

"Nev…er."

**Two Days Later**

Sam been discharged from the hospital yesterday, and he wanted desperately to be at the hospital, but Dr. Myers had put him on strict rest for at least the next couple days or so. He saw Dean only when his brother came home to shower and be forced to eat a meal prepared by Missouri. Sam sat on the couch hating himself for not being able to be with Dean and their dad. Dean had told him when he was home earlier that they had begun to lessen their father's sedatives late last night, and that they expected him to wake up today. Sam wanted to be there, but Missouri was keeping a tight leash on him.

"It'll be okay Sam. Your daddy is going to come home," Missouri comforted as she came into the room with a cup of hot chocolate for the young man. "Here, drink this." Sam took the mug and looked at the contents.

"Hot chh…choc…olate?"

"Yep, in this cold weather it'll do you good. Did you take your medications?"

"Yes."

"Samuel Winchester!" Missouri chided. "I heard that," she quipped. "And, I thought only your brother would give me that kind of attitude. Shame on you." Sam looked at her wide-eyed realizing that she had read his thoughts as he had grumbled about being asked about his meds.

"Sss…sorry," Sam dropped his eyes submissively. Missouri looked at Sam for a long moment and couldn't fault the boy for his frustration. She had felt his inner struggle since she first saw him in the ICU. Dean had filled her in on what had happened with the Demon over a year ago, and the car wreck. She had a bone to pick with John Winchester when he was up to a tongue lashing for leaving his children like he had. She was still upset over John's appearance in Lawrence when Dean and Sam had needed him, but he had never gone to his children to talk to them. Instead, he had been cryptic and had simply given his final answer as _not until I know the truth_. She knew that John had his suspicions about Sam's hidden abilities otherwise she would have never made the comment to him that fateful day when she had mentioned that Sam had powerful abilities. She felt slightly underhanded in her dealings with Sam. He had been so scared and vulnerable when he had asked _what's happening to me_. And, she had simply answered, _I know I should have all the answers, but … I don't know._ She had lied in order to protect him a while longer, but unfortunately after speaking with Dean and picking through their thoughts she knew Sam was well aware of his gift of premonitions and visions. And, he had had a brief episode of telekinesis. She feared for him even more now than back in Lawrence. His head injury and physical and speech deficits made his life even more difficult and precarious.

"Oh, Sam," her voice softened. "It's okay honey. I know how frustrated you are about, well… just about everything." She knew Sam was having trouble with the order of home rest, but the doctor had also told him no work at the library or rehab for at least a week. He was feeling like a failure to his family, but especially his big brother. "I wish I had the perfect words Sam, I do, but I don't think there is any magic fixer for this dark time, but it like all things will pass." She tried to offer some comfort.

"I ddd…don't think I'm going ttt…to get much bbb…better," Sam offered honestly and Missouri looked at him with expectant and pained eyes. "I think Dean and dad knn…know it too, bbb…but won't say it. I ddd…don't want ttt…to be a bur…den."

"Sam," Missouri's voice was soft, and held a slight tone of admonishment. She didn't want to hear Sam give up on himself.

"It's bbb…been a year, and I stt…still ttt…talk like this," Sam's voice was blunt. "And, thh…things I used to knn…know and under…stand ddd…don't always make sense to me and I get sss…so pissed," a small tentative smile crossed his face, "sss…sorry for saying pissed." Missouri laughed.

"Child, please! You should hear some of the colorful remarks I can weave with words. You're just speakin' your mind and there isn't a damn thing wrong with that when you have thoughts to unload."

**CICU, John's Room**

Dr. Jay had allowed Dean to stay as long as he wanted today since they expected John to be waking at some point. Dean had agreed to stay out of the way and leave if asked to. Dean glanced at the clock and hoped that Missouri had reminded Sam to take his meds. He was tempted to call, but decided to trust that she had listened to him when he told her Sam's med schedule. He had all ready spoken with the library for Sam, and had been surprised that Sam's social worker from the rehab center had all ready spoken to the library branch manager telling her of Sam's condition and had informed her that a family crisis had happened. Dean had confirmed the news and Mrs. Kellerman, the branch manager had understood and said to just call her when Sam was able and willing to return. He had called Larry at home telling him of him of John's heart attack and luckily Larry had volunteered to call his brother Dan to tell him about John and that he'd be off work for a while. Dean was lost in his own head when a flicker of movement caught his eye. John's fingers moved slightly, but he didn't wake.

Dean reached over and slid a hand under his father's own and then covered it with his other free hand. He watched with excitement as his father's fingers tightened their grip. "Dad?" Dean watched with expectant eyes. His father was still on the ventilator and he knew he wouldn't be able to speak until the tube was out. He watched as his father's eyes began to flutter, and his heart monitor's pace quickened slightly indicating he was surfacing toward consciousness. "Dad? It's Dean." John's opened his eyes at the sound of his oldest child's voice. Things were fuzzy and his mind felt foggy. He heard beeping, and a whooshing and clicking sound. His eyes opened fully and met his son's expectant and concerned hazel ones. Suddenly, he was all too aware of a chocking intrusion in his throat and he began to buck against it, and started to grab the tube. "No! Dad," Dean stopped his father's hand. "Dad, it's okay. It's a breathing tube. You're okay. Leave it alone." The heart monitor beeped out a staccato rhythm on the screen. "Dad, you have to calm down," Dean commanded. He held the sides of his father's face. "Just calm down. It's okay. Relax." Dean saw his father relax under his touch, and then noticed John's lips begin to move slightly. "No, Dad, you can't speak with the tube in," Dean replied. Connie came into the room quickly.

"Mr. Winchester, you have to relax sir. You're in the hospital. You need to calm down." She cast a glance at Dean indicating without words that it wasn't good for John's heart to be racing.

"Dad, listen to her, okay? Please, just relax." John's heart rate slowed down and he visibly relaxed against his bed. "Good Dad," Dean encouraged. Connie nodded and left the room after adjusting an IV drip rate. John's eyes wandered around his room, and at all of the equipment that surrounded him. "Do you remember what happened Dad?"

John studied his son's face and lifted a hand extending to fingers indicating 'a little' with his index finger and thumb. "A little?" Dean hedged. John gave a slight nod. "You had a heart attack Dad, and you're in the CICU. Today makes day four." Dean saw the look of alarm on John's face. "No, no dad, it's all right. You've been sedated up until late last night. You're going to be fine." Dean squeezed his dad's forearm gently. John reached a shaky hand across his chest and placed it on top of Dean's hand. Dean felt the warmth in his father's hand, and felt comforted by the heat where it had been cold the last four days. John picked his hand up and pointed to Dean and then made the 'OK' symbol with his hand, and Dean laughed.

"I'm fine Dad. I'm not the one that almost cashed in his chips with a heart attack." John reached down and patted Dean's arm. John's eyes moved around the room again and settled back on Dean's face with intensity. "Sammy's at home dad. He's fine." John's eyes widened. "No, dad … he's not alone. I … ugh, called Missouri. She's in town and has been for about three days. She's with Sammy." Dean could see the look of surprise on John's face. "I needed the help dad," Dean replied. "Look, I wanted to hold off on telling you, but you're gonna notice when Sam isn't coming to visit for a day or two. Um, he had a vision a couple days ago, and it triggered a grand mal seizure." Dean's words cut off abruptly as John's face took on a panicked look and his heart monitor began to beep wildly. "Dad, please… if you get Connie in here she is going to bust my ass for telling you. They'll throw me out. You gotta calm down. Look, if Sam were in bad shape would I be here?" Dean questioned. John settled and shook his head slightly. "Good," Dean replied. "Look Dad, it was just bad timing he started having a vision the same time he was having a small seizure and then it just all went to hell."

John gripped his son's arm and offered a comforting squeeze. Dean could see the questions in his father's eyes. "The vision was about you dad. He saved your life. You were headed for a second heart attack, but they caught it in time. Dr. Myers wants him to rest for a couple days. No visiting, no library and no rehab this week." Dean's voice drifted off as his mind recalled the images of Sam's seizure in the waiting room. John saw the haunted look that came over his son's eyes and it concerned him. He got Dean's attention by patting his arms and indicating he wanted something to write on. "Okay, Dad… let me see if Connie can give me something. One minute."

Dean returned with a piece of scrap paper and a pen. "Here dad and Connie said you need to rest after this." John just motioned for the pen and paper. Dean looked at what his father scribbled: _How bad was it with Sammy? I want the truth._

"Dad… he's okay." John was frustrated and tapped at the paper with authority. And, even a silent John Winchester could manage to speak an unspoken direct order. Dean sighed. "Fine," he grumbled and took the paper and pen away from his father. "But, you have to stay relaxed okay?" John nodded.

Dean recounted the entire seizure event to his father and John's eyes were filled with a mixture of anxiety and concern for his baby son. It scared him to hear that Sam had stopped breathing because the seizure was so violent and long. He was thankful though that Sam apparently rebounded quickly from it despite its severity. Dean looked at the clock. "Hey, Dad why don't you get some rest." John motioned for the paper again. Dean shook his head. "No Dad," he admonished. "You need to rest." John leveled a hard gaze on his first born and Dean complied. "Fine, but make it short dad, otherwise, my ass is gonna be in a sling with your doctor and Connie. Jesus," he hissed. "You just woke up after having a heart attack … take it easy!" John wrote on the paper for a long moment and then finally handed it to Dean: _I'll rest. I promise. I'm not going anywhere. I want you to go home and get some sleep. You look tired and I don't want you running yourself into the ground._

"Dad, I'm fine." John shook his head. "Okay, fine," Dean complained. "How about I go home for an hour or two? I'll check in with Sammy and Missouri. I'll tell Sam you woke up. He'll be excited. But, I'll be back tonight for a while, and then I promise I'll sleep at home. Deal?" John nodded. "Good, now close your eyes and get some sleep dad." John felt like a worn photograph … rough around the edges, but the essence of the person still remained inside. He was going to survive this and get back to his sons. He closed his eyes despite his efforts to remain awake and sleep came quickly. Dean sat with him for a short while, and then kept his promise to go home for a while. He knew that Connie had his contact numbers should he be needed. Dean cast one more glance at his father. He was comforted by the fact some of his father's coloring was returning and replacing that pale gray color he'd had since his attack.

**The Winchester House**

Dean walked into the kitchen from the garage and was met by Missouri cooking. Her face looked mildly frustrated. "What's wrong?" Dean asked quickly.

"Child, how do you men survive? You have two skillets and a pasta cooking pot … how in creation do you cook?" Dean laughed lightly.

"We make do," he replied candidly. He looked around the corner and saw the TV was off in the family room and it was quiet. "Where's Sammy?"

"Sleeping," Missouri answered.

"It's two in the afternoon. Is he okay? He's not sick is he?" Dean started to leave the kitchen to check on Sam, but Missouri placed a hand on his arm.

"He's fine Dean," she comforted. "It's that new medication that he's taking. Don't you remember his doctor said it may make him tired until his body adjusts? Plus, I think the last few days were catching up with him. I've never known anyone that left a hospital feeling rested."

"Yeah," Dean answered absently as his eyes still ventured toward the family room. "How long has he been out?"

"Almost two hours." She looked at Dean and smiled. "Go," she encouraged. "I know you're biting at the bit to go check on him. He's in his room." Dean smiled.

"Hey, not fair. No reading me," he chided with no anger.

"Well, I can't help it. You Winchester men are so tight lipped I don't know how you manage to communicate. And, I'm glad your daddy woke up. See I told you he would be okay."

"Out of my head woman!" Dean's voice was amused. "Geez, let a guy get a chance to tell the news before you go leafing through my head like some magazine in the check-out lane." Missouri laughed.

"Sorry," she offered lightly. "Go see your brother. I'll have lunch ready in an hour."

"Thanks for everything Missouri," Dean began. "I know you've got your own life and all. And, you're here helping us out."

"It's my pleasure. And, I didn't have any pressing engagements back in Lawrence anyway. That's the plus side of being your own boss. I can take vacations whenever I damn well want."

"What? The psychic business slow these days?"

"No, I doubt it ever will be… there's always people wantin' answers about something." Dean nodded. He excused himself and went quietly down the hall to Sam's slightly open bedroom door. Dean peeked inside Sam's room and saw his little brother curled on his side sleeping. He walked in quietly using his hunter's skills of stealth to not wake Sam. He stood over his brother for a short while and assured himself there were no tremors or twitches, and he was breathing evenly. His mind flashed for a moment to Sam seizing on the floor in the waiting room turning blue around his lips. He shook his head trying to rid his mind of a memory he knew would always haunt him. Sam stirred.

"Dean?" His voice sleepy as he opened his eyes slowly.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep kiddo."

"No, I'm okay. Hhh…how is dad?"

"He woke up Sammy. He asked about you and I told him you had to rest for a couple days."

"Why? Nnn…now he'll worry." Sam complained.

"Look, Sammy I wouldn't have been able to hold him off for long … it's dad we're talking about. He was concerned, but I told him you're okay. Now, Missouri is making lunch and I'm going to eat here and go back to see dad. I'm sleeping here tonight."

"Good."

"So, the new meds are making you tired, huh?"

"Yeah, bbb…but Dr. Myers said it'll ppp…pass. I hate ttt…taking it ttt…twice a day though."

"I know Sammy, but you have to okay?" Sam nodded begrudgingly.

**CICU, John's Room**

Dean walked into CICU and was surprised to see his father sitting up in bed awake, and off the ventilator. "Dad?" Dean couldn't hold back the sound of astonishment. John smiled warmly at his son. Connie was in the room as well and adjusting IV drip rates and doing charting.

"Yes, your father wanted the tube removed and Dr. Jay deemed him ready. Your father can very hard headed." Dean snorted.

"Hey," John chided softly from his bed. Dean noticed the thin oxygen tubing running under his father's nose.

"She's right dad," Dean mused. "So, when can he get transferred to the CCU side of the unit?"

"Dr. Jay is pleased with his progress and the latest test result, so I bet he'll be transferred in a couple days."

"Good." Connie smiled and excused herself as she finished up charting.

"Did you eat and get some sleep?" John asked as he studied his oldest child's tired features.

"I ate, but I'll sleep tonight. Don't worry dad."

"It's my job to worry," John offered. "I'm sorry for all of this son." Dean looked at his father dumbfounded.

"Dad, it's not you had a heart attack on purpose. There isn't anything to apologize for," Dean paused. "I was thinking earlier today and…" After a long pause John prompted him to continue.

"And, what?"

"Nothin' dad."

"Dean," his father's tone brooked no argument.

"It's just that … I don't know if you hadn't made it that night in the ER Sammy and me would probably be burying you right around now. It's just …" Dean looked everywhere but at his father. "It's just … I'm glad you're still around," his voice drifted off to a whisper. John smiled and reached out a hand and comfortingly squeezed Dean's elbow.

"I'm sorry I scared you boys," John replied. "I'm gonna be okay Dean."

"Yeah, well no more burgers and crap for you old man," Dean teased.

"Hey, who you callin' old?" John countered with a warm smile. "How are Missouri and Sammy doing?"

"Good. I think our lack of cooking equipment is driving her nuts, but she's been great. And, Sammy is okay."

"Okay? Is there something wrong? He didn't have another seizure did he?"

"Dad will you just chill, please!" Dean chided. "He's fine. I know he wants to see you, but like I said he's stuck at home for at least a couple days."

**Later that Evening, the Winchester House**

It was after 10:00 and the house was pretty quiet. Dean finished up filling out some checks to pay some bills. Missouri had been using John's bedroom since her arrival and she had all ready excused herself to bed. Dean was headed down the hallway when he noticed Sam's door was open and the hallway was illuminated by the bathroom light shining from under the closed door. Dean would have gone on to his bedroom, but the sound of quiet retching propelled him toward the bathroom. "Hey Sammy?" Dean asked quietly. "You okay?"

"Dean," was the only quiet response that came before the sounds of more retching. Dean put his hand on the doorknob and was relieved that his little brother hadn't locked it. He pushed the door open and saw Sam sitting on the floor in his sweat pants and white t-shirt and barefoot. He looked pale and sweaty.

"Jesus Sammy," Dean knelt down. Sam only offered a small smile before he turned his head back toward the toilet and threw up again. Dean rubbed circles on his back. He stood up to get a cool cloth and proceeded to wipe Sam's face with it. "It doesn't feel like you have a fever," Dean suggested as he placed the back of his hand on his brother's forehead. "Sam what's wrong?"

"I ddd…don't know," Sam complained. "I fff…felt a little sss…sick all day."

"All day? Why didn't you say something. Dammit Sammy!"

"Sss…sorry," Sam managed just before his head was back in the toilet. Then something clicked with Dean.

"Sam where's all those damn prescription medication sheets the pharmacist gave us with your new medication?" Dean had always been very vigilant about reading his brother's medication pamphlets, but since his father's heart attack he hadn't had the time to read over the new med papers. "Sam? Where?" His brother pulled back from the toilet and pointed to a drawer in the vanity. Dean opened it and pulled out the papers.

Sam leaned back away from the toilet and propped himself against the tub. Dean handed him another cool rag for his face as he leafed through the papers. He skimmed as his eyes searched for the headings side effects and adverse reactions. He read the notices:

SIDE EFFECTS: most common complaint; sedative reaction and lethargy until therapeutic blood levels are reached and maintained. Less common: headache, light sensitivity, and tinnitus.

ADVERSE REACTIONS: This drug in some individuals may cause labored breathing, cardiac palpitations, extreme nausea and vomiting, hives, and possible anaphylactic shock could result. If any of these symptoms are encountered you should seek medical assistance and notify pharmacist of the allergy.

"Sonofabitch!" Dean hissed. Sam was leaning forward once again to get sick. "Okay, Sammy … I'm taking you to the ER kiddo. I think you're having an allergic reaction. Um, let me go get your socks and gym shoes. Just stay put… here," Dean filled a Dixie cup with cool water. "Rinse." Sam complied.

"Thirsty," Sam replied.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean offered. "I think you better wait. I don't know if I should give you anything to drink. Look, just sit here and I'll be right back." Dean folded the papers and grabbed the medication bottle to make sure he took it with them. He hurried down the hall cursing himself the entire way. He heard the door open to his father's room.

"Dean?" Missouri's voice sounded worried from the doorway. "Is Sam okay?"

"No," Dean said as he came back up the hallway with his brother's socks and shoes accompanied with a zip-up hoodie. "I'm pretty sure he's having an allergic reaction to his new medication. I gotta take him to the ER."

"I'll come with you," she responded quickly. "I knew that boy wasn't feeling well, but he kept saying he was fine even though I knew he was lying."

"Missouri it's not your fault okay. Sammy's a big boy."

**Two Hours Later: The Emergency Room**

"He's going to be fine, Mr. Winchester. We gave your brother an injection of Zofran to help with the nausea, and once he's finished his bag of fluids to get him re-hydrated I'll give him his walking papers. I spoke with his neurologist on the phone and she gave me a verbal order to change his medication due to the allergy. He should start this new medication tomorrow. It's best if taken in the mornings, and he can take it with his Dilantin."

"Thanks doc. So, once his fluids finish out I can take him home?"

"Yep, I'll get his discharge papers ready. It'll probably be another forty minutes for that bag to finish up."

"Okay, thanks."

Dean walked back into the curtained ER cubicle where his brother was located. Missouri sat reading a discarded magazine, and Sam had dozed off. "How's he doin'?" Dean whispered.

"Sleeping like a baby. Poor child is completely exhausted."

"Missouri, I was thinking…" she smiled. "What?"

"Go up and check on your daddy. We'll be fine here. I'll stay with Sam."

"Thanks."

**CICU, John's Room**

Dean walked quietly inside. The lights were dimmed and he could see his father's eyes were closed. But, this was John Winchester and he recognized the soft steps of his own child. He opened his eyes. "Dean?"

"Go back to sleep Dad."

"What's wrong? I thought we agreed you get some sleep at home. It's after midnight Dean."

"I was in the area and couldn't leave without stopping in, okay?"

"What do you mean in the area?" John studied Dean intently. "It's Sammy, isn't it?" His heart monitor began beeping wildly.

"Calm down dad," Dean commanded. "Sam's fine now. He had an allergic reaction to his new medication. I had to bring him into the ER. He's getting discharged in a little bit. Missouri is sitting with him."

"But, he's okay?" John's eyes were intense as they watched Dean's face looking for the slightest bit of deception.

"He's fine dad. He was out like a light when I came up here. They gave him some stuff for the nausea and vomiting and we'll be out of here soon. I just wanted to stop by."

"Dean," John began. "What you've been doing for your brother and everything you had to endure over this past year … I couldn't be more proud of you and what you've taken on without question. When I think about how I left…"

"Don't dad," Dean replied. "We're getting past that," Dean commented. "You've stuck around and kept your word. Look … you're in no condition to start up this conversation. Let's just let sleeping dogs lie for now, okay?"

"Sure son," John responded. Dean looked at the clock and couldn't believe that thirty minutes had passed all ready.

"I better let you get back to sleep and Sammy should be ready to go."

**The Emergency Room**

Dean made his way back t the curtained cubicle and was surprised to only be met by Missouri and Sam wasn't there. "What happened?" Dean barked nearing panic.

"Calm yourself child," she instructed. "Your brother is fine. The IV finished and the doctor discharged him. He wouldn't take no for an answer," she began. "You probably just missed each other. He took an elevator up to see your father.

"He should be in a car and headed home," Dean complained, but he understood that Sam needed to see their father. "Let's go get him."

**CICU, John's Room**

John hadn't gone back to sleep yet and saw a shadow step into his doorway. He recognized the tall lanky figure right away, "Sammy?" His voice was soft.

"Ddd…dad," Sam spoke in a lower tone realizing the hour.

"Hey, kiddo … come here and let me look at you." John looked at his baby son and could see the dark circles under his eyes. "You need to get some sleep Sammy. Your brother told me about what happened with the seizure and tonight with the allergic reaction. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good." Sam was happy to see his father off the ventilator. "Hhh…how are you?"

"I'm going to be fine Sammy. It'll take more than a little heart attack to take out your dad." Sam smiled.

"I was sss…scared you we're going ttt…to die."

"I know son. But, I'm going to be okay." Sam sat down on his father's bed and John pulled him into a hug and Sam let himself relax into his father's grasp. A sound in the doorway alerted them to a presence.

"Pulling an AWOL from the ER Sammy," Dean chided quietly. "Not cool little brother."

"Sss…sorry, but hhh…had to." Dean smiled despite himself and nodded.

"Come on Dad needs to sleep and you do too."

**Later that Night, the Winchester House**

Dean rolled over in his bed and listened to the sounds of the quiet house. Missouri had gone back to bed, and Sam was sound asleep. They had stopped off at a twenty-four hour pharmacy to get Sam's new prescription filled before going home, and now Dean found himself looking at the red numbers of his clock: 2:00 AM shown like a beacon in the dark. He felt sleep pulling at him and drawing him into its warm embrace. His father was alive and expected to recover, and Sammy was safe and sleeping just down the hall, maybe he could let his body relax for a little bit. Dean closed his eyes as he sighed quietly into the dark, and slumber came swiftly to his tired mind.

**To Be Continued**

**Long chapter, I know. Let me know what you're thinking. All of the reviews you take the time to leave for this story are appreciated and each one is motivation for another chapter. So, are you still enjoying the story? Bored? Let me hear from you.**

**Read and Review!**


	20. Benediction

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Well, this chapter is a little shorter, but not by a big margin. I wanted to thank all of the readers that have been very vigilant about leaving a comment or review for the chapters they read. I'm very thankful. Reviews and comments are motivation for future chapters. And, don't forget a review is … after all, a fanfiction writers only payment. Thanks in advance for reading and reviewing! I hope you enjoy this newest chapter, but unless you take the time to tell me … I will never know. Thanks!

Thanks for your patience between updates!

**Chapter Twenty**

**Benediction**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_When the night is overcome may you rise to find the sun … believe and you will find your way … a promise lives within you now."_ Excerpt by Enya, _May It Be_

**Two Weeks Later**

"Now, John I'm sending you home with strict instructions to not do anything strenuous. And, I know you feel up to par, but I'm your cardiologist and I'm saying you're not. That means I won't even consider clearing you to return to work for at least two months."

"Don't worry Doc I'll make sure he doesn't do anything stupid," Dean commented as he gathered his father's things while his father took a seat in a wheelchair.

"And, here are the prescriptions he needs to get filled," Dr. Jay replied. "And, John we talked about this … these are all taken until further notice … possibly forever."

"Yeah," John grumbled.

"Here Sammy," Dean handed his brother a large plastic bag with some of their father's belongings.

Dean was content to be getting his father home. It had been a long almost three weeks since the heart attack that almost killed John. The past two weeks in CCU had felt like they went on forever. John had begun a heart rehab program at the hospital and had started taking his meds. Dean was happy that they would be home as a family for Christmas. John almost hadn't been discharged in time, but now they had two days to spare before the holiday. Of course, no one had had time to shop for gifts with John in the hospital, but this year being together as a family was enough for Dean.

"Did you get Missouri off at the airport?" John replied.

"Ah, not exactly," Dean hedged as Sam snickered in the backseat of the Impala. John cast a leery glance at his oldest child. Missouri had been a mainstay the couple weeks or so and John considered a Godsend for his children's peace of mind since his heart attack. However, Missouri over the last week had decided to give John a piece of her mind over his leaving his boys. She had given him a tongue lashing in her Missouri tell it like it is manner. He respected the woman more than he'd ever tell her, but with a mild grin he realized she had all ready plucked that thought from his mind long ago.

"What do you mean not exactly?" John's voice was serious.

"Well, she said she'd stay on until after the holidays. She wouldn't hear of leaving yet. She said we're going to need help, and I think she's right. She decided she needed her own space, so she took a room at the Best Western down the block on Olive Street."

"A hotel!" John barked. "How could you agree to let her do that? After everything she's done." Dean cast an incredulous look at his father.

"Hey! Like I can tell Missouri what to do or think when she's made up her mind about something. She said there was no way she was putting any of us out of our rooms. Look," Dean continued. "I tried to make her reconsider, but she wouldn't listen to me, so we compromised."

"Yeah? How?"

"I told her I'd pay for her room, and she agreed after a ten minute debate with her." John grumbled under his breath. "It's just till after the holiday's dad. She just wants to make sure we're okay and that you're fine."

"Dean?" Sam's voice chimed in from the backseat.

"Yeah, Sammy?" Dean cast a glance in the rearview mirror.

"Ddd…don't forget ttt…to stop for the med…icine."

"Oh yeah, thanks Sammy." Dean sighed. He had almost forgotten to get his father's scripts filled. He put on his turn signal to turn up ahead for the pharmacy.

**The Winchester House**

The kitchen window was open slightly and John caught the scent of food cooking and after nothing but hospital food the last couple weeks or so his mouth was watering. He looked at Dean as they climbed out of the car. Sam and Dean both carried bags of their father's. John looked at Dean. "The hotels within walking distance dad. I gave her a house key. John nodded. They slammed the car doors out on the driveway and soon Missouri came out of the open garage smiling.

"Well, well look what the cat dragged in," she quipped. John smiled.

"Hi Missouri," John offered. "Thanks for staying a little longer."

"Uh-huh," she replied. "I oughtta smack you with a spoon John Winchester!"

"What'd I do? I just got out of the hospital."

"For yellin' at that boy. He's no more a match for my set mind than you are John Winchester. Now, you stop givin' that child grief. I'm here to make sure you Winchester men don't starve over the holidays and to make sure you're all settled before I go back home."

**Christmas Day, December 25, 2007**

Sam padded quietly down the hall dressed in jeans and a sweater. He put on a pair of hiking boots to combat the deep snowfall. He concentrated with the laces. His fine motor skills had made some improvements with rehab. He grabbed his winter jacket and gloves and slipped out the front door locking it behind himself. He looked at his watch and knew that his brother and dad would probably be asleep until 8:00. And, Dean was picking Missouri up at 10:00 AM. She had hauled Dean out to the store yesterday to get fixings for a Christmas dinner, and she would be over to start cooking. It was a bright and cold Christmas morning and Sam smiled as he inhaled the crisp clean air. He went to the corner and caught the Number 10 bus that stopped by Cross Pointe Shopping Center where he knew the grocery store and floral center were open 7:00 AM to 11:00 AM for last minute holiday food shoppers. He had stopped and grabbed a bus routes map the other day from the library when he finished working. Dean and his father had both thought he should get back to his routine of the library and rehab even while John was still in the hospital. Sam had complained, but after his doctor ordered rest after his seizure episode he did in fact return to his routine.

Sam sat looking out the window as the bus moved through the city. There were only a couple other riders commuting along with him. When the bus pulled up at the shopping center Sam got off. He walked into the grocery store and headed for the entertainment area. He had been pulled out some money from his savings account that Dean had helped him open. He had been able to walk to the bank the previous week during his lunch break and removed some cash from his account. He looked at his watch and hurried around the store.

He bought his brother a new digitally re-mastered DVD version of his big brother's favorite Godzilla movie. Sam rolled his eyes at the black and white movie picture on the cover: _Godzilla versus Mothra. _Sam still preferred the remake … he didn't care if his brother said it was horrible. He had all ready bought his dad a gift the previous week while he was walking back from the bank to the library. He passed _Rob's CD's and Vintage LP's_ store. He found that the store carried cassettes on a limited basis. He was amazed that there were even still tapes to be found. He knew they would work in his Dad's truck when he was able to return to driving in another couple weeks or so. He bought what he knew his Dad loved: _Johnny Cash_ and _Willy Nelson. _Sam couldn't stand the music, but his father loved it. He hurried over to the floral section and bought a floral arrangement in a small decorator vase for Missouri. He grabbed a small card and envelope to include with the small floral arrangement for Missouri. He spotted some holiday DVD wrappers on his way out and picked one out to seal Dean's DVD up in, so that he would have something to open. He had all ready had his father's cassettes wrapped in some left over wrapping paper from the previous weeks library event where some staff wrapped gifts for donations for the library and Sam had helped himself to some left over scraps that had been trimmed off of other gifts.

He paid for his purchases and hurried back to the bus stop to wait for the Number 8 bus that went back the route he needed to get home. He stood there waiting with his purchases in hand. He had studied the route maps for a couple days and was still confused by them a little. So, he had tucked them away to take to his occupational therapy session and have his therapist help him understand them. He had finished his lessons on handling finances and money. His therapist had been excited to help him understand bus routes and time schedules as part of his therapy. Sam was pleased with himself. He looked at his watch and it was 7:45 AM and he felt a tad bit of concern that he wouldn't make it home, and he started to wonder if Dean would wake up and find out he was gone. He knew his big brother would blow a gasket. And, he didn't want to worry his father; after all he had only been home a couple days. The bus made good time across town and dropped him off at the bus stop at the end of his street at 8:10 AM.

Sam stomped his feet outside to get some of the excess snow off his hiking boots. He unlocked the front door and walked in quietly. The house was still quiet and as he turned down the hallway he could hear the shower running and knew his brother was up, but hadn't noticed he wasn't home because he had left his bedroom door closed and Dean must have assumed he was still asleep. He slid into his room quietly and took off his jacket. He took off his boots and went about hiding his purchases until it was time to reveal them. He opened his door and walked to the kitchen to try and make some coffee. His first few attempts had not gone well, but he was determined that he'd get it right. The first time he was certain he had done everything right, but when it began to brew in the Mr. Coffee machine and drip down it was nothing but coffee mixed with tons of coffee grounds. And, to his dismay he had forgotten completely that you need a coffee filter. He had made just about every possible mistake, so he was sure he could get it right and surprise his brother and father with some decaf coffee. After all, since John's heart attack that was the only coffee he was allowed, so Dean had switched too in order to make things easier and not tempt their father to hit the caffeine.

Dean walked out of the bathroom and saw that Sam's door was open. He poked his head inside, but saw that Sam wasn't inside. When he walked into the family room he could smell the scent of fresh coffee coming from the kitchen and smiled. He wasn't sure what condition he'd find the coffee in, but at least it smelled good. "Mornin' Sammy." Dean said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Morning," Sam smiled. "What some coffee?" Dean grabbed a mug and handed it to his little brother.

"Sure Sammy," he wasn't entirely sure it would be something drinkable, but he wasn't about to make his brother feel bad about his previous attempts and failures. He only hoped this one was going to be as bad tasting as the last.

"Hhh…here," Sam gave Dean his famous dimpled-lopsided grin and he was a goner. He figured even if it was awful he'd drink the whole mug if he had too. Dean looked at the dark brew and smelled.

"Smells good Sammy," he offered. The steam rolled off the top of the dark liquid. _Here goes nothing_, he thought to himself. He smiled as his first tentative sip went down his throat and he took a second bigger drink. "Mmm, Sammy," Dean replied. "We have a winner," he quipped.

"Rrr…really?" He eyed his brother for any sign he was lying to protect his feelings. Sam no longer drank coffee at all whether it was regular or decaf. The doctor had suggested it might not be the best thing for him while on his meds. She had gone into a long explanation about the possible acetic qualities of coffee degrading the medications or causing an upset stomach. So, Sam had stopped drinking it all together much to his chagrin.

"Good Morning boys," John walked into the kitchen in sweats and a t-shirt.

"Here dad," Dean turned quickly and pulled out a chair at the table in the kitchen. "Have a seat."

"Son, I just got out of bed," John mused. "Why would I want to sit?"

"You shouldn't strain yourself," Dean suggested. John chuckled. Both of his son's since he had come home from the hospital two days ago had been busy bodies always acting like mother hens. He thought it was endearing, but it was also a pain in his ass.

"Listen boys," John began. "I appreciate this … really I do, but your old dad isn't an invalid. I can stand in the kitchen. I'm not running a marathon. You have to both just relax, okay? And, stop hovering so much." John eyed the coffee pot. "You make coffee Sammy," John asked with a smile.

"Yes. Dean lll…likes it." John turned quizzical eyes to his oldest and Dean confirmed with a smile.

"Yeah, dad," Dean encouraged. "Try some. It's good." John hated the decaf, but if it was what the doctor had ordered then he'd suffer with decaf rather than his usual. Dean poured their father a mug and watched John take a drink.

"This is a good cup of Joe Sammy. Nice job." John reached out and patted the side of Sam's head.

"Mmm…mer…ry Christmas," Sam forced out with a smile as he looked at both his brother and father.

"Yes, it is," John replied. "Merry Christmas boys." John smiled warmly at both of his sons. "So, Dean, what time do you pick Missouri up?"

"Ten. And, she gave me strict instructions to tell both of you that we are to stay out of the kitchen once she starts cooking. She said she doesn't need us under foot." John rolled his eyes. Dean and Sam both snickered.

**Later that Afternoon**

Missouri had relegated John to the couch to rest while she put the boys to work on clean up. Sam stayed in the kitchen after the table was cleaned and helped Missouri rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher. Sam rinsed a pan and handed it to Missouri to put in the dishwasher. "Nice job, Sam," Missouri replied.

"Thh…thanks."

"You know it's been real nice seeing you boys again. And, your father, too," she added. "Although, that heart attack didn't make him any less pig headed." Sam smiled.

"It's bbb…been nice seeing you ttt…too," Sam replied.

"Sam," Missouri began. "Remember when I told you boys back in Lawrence to not be strangers … well, I meant it."

"Thh…thanks Miss…ouri. Sss…sorry we never came bbb…back … we…"

"I know," Missouri replied. "You and your brother have been busy since you left Lawrence. I wanted to talk to you Sam about …" her voice trailed off and Sam looked at her.

"About what?"

"I know your abilities have expanded a bit since Lawrence. I know then you were having premonition dreams and you could sense the house wasn't clean yet. You felt the presence in the house still even when I couldn't. But, now I know you're having visions."

"I ccc….can't con…troll them. They just hap…pen."

"I know. I'm sorry I'm no help Sam. But, what you're capable of is something I'm not. I can sense energies and read minds … I wish I knew more to help you."

"Not your fff…fault. I've only had one vision since my hhh…head was hhh…hurt."

"I know it saved your daddy's life, but almost cost you yours."

"Www…would hhh…have been wor…worth it." Missouri turned and looked at Sam.

"Child," her voice was soft. "You carry so much inside. I worry for you."

"I'm ggg…good." He smiled. "I hhh…have Dean and dad." Missouri nodded. She knew that Sam was troubled by many thoughts and most of them had to do with his fears that he'd never regain what he was, and the truth of that he probably would never be completely the same was beginning to take root in him. She felt his fear that he was a burden to his family and that he was a weight holding them down. She knew she couldn't confront him with those feelings unless he brought it up. But, she wanted to make sure he always knew her door and home were open to him.

"Sam," Missouri started. "I just wanted you to know that if you ever need me for any reason I'm only a phone call away, and my home is always open to you." Sam looked at her for a long moment.

"I know," he smiled at her sheepishly. They finished loading the dishwasher and she started a fresh pot of coffee. "Um, Miss…ouri?"

"Yes honey," she replied as she poured the water into the coffee pot.

"Will you ccc…come out to the fam…ily room … I www…want ttt…to do something."

"Okay," she wanted to pick his mind, but could see the buried excitement in his eyes over something and decided she wanted to find out when everyone else did.

Missouri sat in a chair opposite the couch facing John and Dean. John had turned the TV off. They all sat looking at each other. "What could he be up to?" John asked. "Missouri, you know?"

"Not a thing."

"Well, with Sammy it's hard telling." Dean quipped. Sam emerged down the hall. One arm held what everyone quickly saw were tiny wrapped presents, and in his free hand he was carrying a delicate floral arrangement. Sam handed Missouri the flowers.

"Miss…ouri these are fff…for you," he handed her the petite floral arrangement in the decorator vase. "I ppp…put a card in it fff…for you. Mer…merry Christ…mas"

"Oh, Sam honey," she stood and hugged him. Sam turned and handed his dad two tiny wrapped gifts. John looked at the wrapping job and knew Sam must have struggled with this when he had done this.

"Son? What is this? I mean… you shouldn't have," John smiled. He could see the pride Sam had in his eyes.

"Prrr…pre…sents for you." Sam answered. He turned to Dean and handed his gift. His big brother took it wide-eyed still trying to figure out the how, when and where his kid brother had been able to do this.

"Thanks Sammy," Dean managed the only verbal response he could muster at the moment.

"Wel…come," Sam answered beaming. John and Dean opened their gifts and both had smiles on their faces, but their faces also held questions.

"Sammy?" Dean began. "How did you get this stuff?"

"Store."

"Yeah, duh, Captain Obvious," Dean countered. "Who still sells cassettes?" Dean questioned.

"Place by mmm…my bank."

"And, my movie and Missouri's flowers?"

"Store."

"Yeah, I think you answered that before Sammy. But those flowers still look fresh. Where you been hiding them?"

"Bbb…bought ttt…today," Sam supplied. "Your movie and flowers sss…same ppp…place." Dean's facial expression grew perplexed and then dark.

"Wait, what do you me you bough them today. You've been here."

"Went out."

"Out? Out where."

"Cross Ppp…Pointe," Sam answered his facial expression beginning to show a tinge of worry.

"Shit!" Dean hissed as he stood up abruptly. "Cross Pointe Sam! That's clear across town. How the hell did you get there," he spat.

"Dean, calm down son," John tried to reign in his oldest before he blew a gasket. Missouri wanted to interfere, but she felt like she should keep her mouth closed. She knew where Dean's anger was coming from, and it was out of fear and concern for his brother's well-being.

"Calm down? You're joking right?" Dean turned blazing eyes to his father and then leveled them back on his little brother. "I asked you a question Sam. How did you get there?"

Sam looked down at the floor as he moved his feet back and forth nervously. He suddenly felt like a small child caught doing something bad. "The bus," his voice was a mere whisper. Dean strained to hear the answer.

"What was that?" he snapped. Sam remained looking at the floor as he stood in front of his big brother.

"The bus," he said a little more loudly.

"The bus!" Dean shouted. "Have you lost your mind? You could have ended up anywhere. Dammit Sammy," Dean growled.

"I not get lost," Sam spoke suddenly. His speech resorting to fragmentation. "I learn mmm…map and take rrr…right bbb…buses. I ask Dar…lene to explain maps in rehab. She show me."

"Sonofabitch! They've got no right showing you that shit you could have ended up anywhere," Dean ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

"Not end up anywhere," Sam shouted back. "I kkk…know what bbb…bus to ttt…take there and bbb…back. I ddd…do it on my own. I'm not stt…stu…pid." Dean could see how upset he had made Sam and he could hear how badly his sentences were breaking apart a sure sign he was upset.

"Sammy," Dean lowered his voice. "It's just…"

"No!" Sam barked. "You ttt…think I ccc…can't do on my own. I ddd…did it! I ggg…got there on my own. I ppp…paid with mmm…my own mmm…money from my acc…account. I ddd…do on my own!"

"Sammy," Dean began tentatively.

"No! Bbb…bite mmm…me," he spat cutting his brothers words off. Sam stormed down the hall and slammed his door. Dean stared down the hall and then let out a frustrated sign and sat down on the couch running a hand over his face.

"Well, that went well." John offered candidly.

"I should go talk to him," Dean started to stand.

"Dean Winchester," Missouri's voice was chiding. "Sit your back side down… now." Her tone was level; however, it brooked no argument.

"But…" Dean attempted.

"But nothing," Missouri countered. "Now, you're going to sit and listen to me before you manage to push that brother of yours any further away." John knew enough to stay quiet. Missouri Mosley had proved over the years to be a very good sounding board, and source of good advice even though it came under her heavy handed tough love.

"Dean, child," Missouri began. "And, you too John," she admonished just to make sure the senior Winchester in the family didn't think he was off the hook. "Look, I know you both worry about the boy, I do. But, Dean he's an adult no matter how you slice it." She saw Dean begin to interrupt. "Not a word from you until I'm done," she ordered. "That boy is twenty-four years old, and yes he has some difficulties, but he isn't a child and you shouldn't make him feel like one. You chided him like he was six and had snuck out of the house and walked to the park alone. You can't do that." Missouri took a breath and looked at both Winchester men.

"I know that you both worry because of the potential seizures, but you can't keep him on a leash just to make sure he's safe. That boy in there is like a handful of sand Dean," she replied. "And, the tighter you try to hang on to him the faster he's gonna slip right through your fingers. And, that goes for you too John," Missouri interjected. "You're not as bad as Dean is, but you're damn close."

"He could die," Dean blurted suddenly to break Missouri's tirade. "If he has another grand mal like the last one … do you get that he could die? He would have died the last time if no one was there. You don't get it!" Missouri could feel the love and desperation that rolled off Dean for his little brother. Her eyes were soft as she looked at the young man seated in front of her.

"Dean, I do understand," she replied. "I know you're scared for him, but you can't stop him from having a life. Sam can't survive in a bell jar, honey. He's cut from a different cloth than you and your daddy. You know I'm right," she spoke softly. "And, you need to know that whatever presumed control you think you have over his life and decisions that you only have as much power as he has given you. He is an adult."

"It's different for him now," Dean interrupted. "And you know it. Sam doesn't understand certain things anymore and he needs to learn them again even if he can. Life is different for him now Missouri … he's different. And, I don't mean that in a negative way, but it's the way it is."

"Are you prepared to have him deemed mentally incompetent Dean? Are you ready to say he's not able to make his own life and medical decisions?"

"No! Of course not!" Dean answered sharply.

"Well, then," Missouri began. "You better loosen those apron strings before that boy suffocates under the tightness. And, you may not like it, but that boy can make his own decisions and sometimes they may be ones that get you worried, but you're gonna have to let him make his own mistakes and learn from them. So, unless you're prepared to take your brother's choices and his independence away by going to court then you better get used to him doing things on his own when he wants to."

"You make it sound so simple Missouri, but it isn't like that for him. Yeah, he can make decisions about some things, but not everything Missouri. Hell, he has trouble with a calculator. He goes to occupational therapy to learn things he either can't remember he knew or that he lost all together. He still has trouble holding a ballpoint pen. And, with his seizure disorder I can't take the chance in him being unsupervised."

"He's right Missouri," John spoke up finally. He had been biting his tongue long enough. "Missouri I can't thank you enough for helping me and the boys since my heart attack, but with all due respect … your nose is poking where it doesn't belong."

"Well, someone better before you run that boy off all together."

"Run off!" Dean barked. "Where's he gonna go? He had to have the bus map explained to him. He isn't allowed to drive. He can't go anywhere."

"Dean, you and your father both know that you shouldn't underestimate that child. What are you gonna do if you get up one day and he's gone, huh? Sam isn't stupid and if he wants to go … he'll go."

"He won't. He ran off once before and no matter how pissed he gets he won't put us through that again," Dean replied.

"Missouri this is my family and they are my son's," John added.

"Yeah, they are John Winchester and we've seen how much you've done right by them haven't we?" her voice sarcastic. "You leave your youngest in a coma with a horrible head injury and drop all that woe on your firstborn. Yeah, John they're your son's and you don't deserve them."

"Hold on one damn minute," Dean growled. "You got no right passing judgment on my father. Whatever has happened that's between us not you." And, just as the argument was about to step up a notch a quiet voice brought all of their attentions up. Sam stood in the room with his hands fidgeting with each other as he faced the combative trio in front of him.

"I www…want to sss…say sss…some…thing," Sam's eyes surveyed each person individually and landed back at his brother.

"Sure Sammy," Dean spoke. Sam lifted a hand indicating to Dean to shut up, so he silenced himself.

"I www…won't apol…ogize for leaving and taking the bbb…bus. I wouldn't have gone if I ddd…didn't know hhh…how to get there. I'm not a kid. I knn…know I have sss…sei…zures, but I ccc…can't worry about that every ddd…day. I shh…should be able ttt…to say I'm going somewhere and jjj…just be able to ggg…go. I'm nnn…not fff…five any…more. I ddd…don't need a baby…sss…sitter. You and ddd…dad make me fff…feel like you ddd…don't ttt…trust me to ttt…take care of myself. I'm twen…twenty-fff…four." Sam fell silent and looked at the three sets of eyes staring at him. Dean stood up, but kept his distance from Sam allowing his little brother some room.

"Sammy," Dean began. "Dad and I trust you."

"Your brother's right," John added as he stayed seated.

"It's just Sam … your situation is different. You could have another big seizure. It could kill you if you're alone."

"Ppp…people lll…live with sss…sei…zures everyday and they hhh…have lives," Sam supplied.

"Yeah, they do Sammy, but you're different. If you have another grand mal and no one is around to call for help … you could die … and that is unacceptable to me. What if you had had a seizure on the bus, huh? We could have lost you." Sam shook his head.

"No," he spoke softly. "You and ddd…dad try to keep me sss…safe and sss…say you want me sss…supervised, bbb…but I could hhh…have a sss…sei…zure in the middle of the night and you wouldn't know until mmm…morn…ing. It ddd…doesn't matter where I am."

"Out of the mouth of babes," Missouri spoke up. Dean and John looked at her. "He's right. He could just as easily have a seizure in the middle of the night and you wouldn't know until it was probably long over and too late. You can't protect him from this," Missouri supplied. "The boy couldn't be more right."

Dean sat there dumbfounded for a long moment. He shared a concerned look with his father. _Sam was right_ they both thought privately. Suddenly, Dean felt his stomach clench at the thought of waking one morning only to discover Sammy had had a seizure in the middle of the night and died. The mental picture assaulted Dean's senses and he flinched slightly.

"Sam," John began. He was unsure of his voice at that moment his mind like Dean's was reeling. _How could that notion never crossed his mind before_, John chided himself in his head. "I guess you're right. I just never wanted to think that something would happen to you here and your brother and I not know about it, but you're right. Sammy your brother and I don't want you to feel like we think you're a kid or that we don't trust you. Please, it's just that we worry…"

"I knn…know," Sam conceded. "Bbb…but I nnn…need to be able to try thh…things on my own when I want ttt…to." John nodded.

"You did good today Sammy," John spoke suddenly. "I mean… you were able to use the maps to get on the right buses and then you made coffee this morning. I'm sorry if we've made you feel belittled or hurt you." Sam looked at his father and saw the sincerity in the man's eyes. "It's just we worry that if something were to happen…"

"I ttt…took my ID and hhh…had my cell phone. I wore mmm…my med…ical brace…let. And, I ttt…took my meds. If sss…some…thing hap…pened then some…one would call. It's mmm…my life." Sam replied.

"Yes, it is," John conceded.

"Fine, Sammy," Dean began with a long sigh. "You want some more freedom … we'll work something out, okay?" Sam nodded.

Missouri looked on at the Winchester family. "Well, that's some progress."

**Later the Next Day**

Sam had gone to the library to work for the day. The Christmas holiday had fallen on a Tuesday, so there wasn't a long holiday weekend. Dean had gone into work for a half day. He had returned on a limited basis just to make some extra money. Missouri had come over around 9:00 to start making meals to freeze that would get the Winchester men through at least three weeks. She wanted to make sure they were eating well for a while until their lives were back into full swing. John sat in the kitchen reading the paper as she cooked. They exchanged banter most of the morning, and there seemed to be no hard feelings from the previous day's exchange of words.

John went to the family room and picked up the cordless phone to call a number he knew by heart. Something had been bothering him since yesterday and he knew he needed to find a solution. He suspected it was bothering Dean, as well. After all, both Dean and John had run into each other late last night as he started to sneak into Sam's room just as Dean was sneaking out. They both looked at each other knowing full well why they were there. Sam's statement about a nighttime seizure had scared both John and Dean more than they had led on.

"Ivy Ridge Rehab Center, how may I direct your call?"

"Yes, is Dr. Myers in today?"

"Yes, she is. Whom should I say is calling?"

"John Winchester."

"Hold on while I transfer your call."

"Thank you."

John call landed with Dr. Myers administrative assistant, Becky. "She's on the other line Mr. Winchester. She should be done anytime now. Do you want to hold?"

"Yes, thanks Becky."

"Oh, you're welcome."

John hung on the line a couple minutes and then heard Dr. Myers familiar voice. "Hello, Mr. Winchester. It's good to hear your voice. How are you feeling? Sam told me you'd be home in time for the holidays."

"Yes, it's good to be home with my boys."

"What can I do for you?"

"I'm hoping you have a solution to something that has Dean and I both worried."

"Okay, tell me."

"Is there something we can use … a monitoring device or something for Sam at night. We've started to worry that if he were to have another grand mal seizure at night while we were sleeping… I just worry that he could stop breathing again and we'd never know."

Dr. Myers spoke with John for awhile and finally offered up a solution. "Sometimes when families are sent home with a baby that was premature or had breathing problems they are sent home with an oxygen monitor that warns when either the baby's oxygen levels are too low or has stopped breathing. I could prescribe something like that for Sam. It's the same set-up as the hospital. He'd simply sleep with a clip on his finger, and should he seize and stop breathing the alarm would sound to indicate that he wasn't breathing."

"And, the monitoring equipment?"

"It's a medium size unit. The main unit would stay in Sam's room, but it comes with one satellite unit that's about the size of a portable baby monitor. The alarm would sound and alert you that there was a situation. I can call into a Jefferson City Medical Supply and prescribe one for Sam. They'll explain the simple set-up and you can carry it out of there. I'll make arrangements through Sam's social worker here at the center. The state will pay for the equipment purchase since the seizure disorder is a life-long potential problem and Sam is considered special needs in the eyes of the state. His social worker Lena will handle the paperwork. I'll have a medical rush put on the papers. It may take a week for the paperwork to go through, but the supply store will allow you to get the equipment today."

John finished with the phone call feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. He called Dean's cell phone. "Dad?" Dean's voice held a hint of panic. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I spoke with Dr. Myers."

"Why? Something wrong with Sammy?"

"No, I spoke to her about a solution for our nighttime dilemma."

"And?"

John went on to explain what she had prescribed. He gave Dean the information he'd need to pick up the equipment and told him where the supply was located. "Sammy's not gonna like this," Dean supplied as they ended their conversation.

"Maybe not, but once he's sees it's better than being dead he'll give in. And, anyway he'll know it's to give us peace of mind. He'll be okay Dean."

"Yeah, I guess … no other way really."

**New Year's Day, January 1, 2008**

Dean was on his way back from the airport having dropped of Missouri for her flight back to Kansas. She had brought in the new year with them all and had told to never hesitate calling her or coming for a visit. The airport wasn't too crowded and Missouri had insisted he drop her off and not park. Sam had stayed home with John. The roads weren't too busy at 9:30 AM. Dean figured half of the city was probably sleeping off hangovers from New Year's Eve parties. He smiled to himself and shook his head … boy, had his life changed in the past year. There was a time he would have been one of those fellow hung over people, but that wasn't his life now. It hadn't been that long ago, but somehow it seemed like an eternity. His father was scheduled to begin his heart rehab in another week, and Sam was back to his regular routine.

Sam had been annoyed a few days ago when they had told him about the oxygen monitor, but much to Dean and John's relief he hadn't put up as big a fight as they had prepared to endure. Dean's mind wandered back to a memory two days after they started using it. He and his father both wanted monitor duty, so they agreed to trade off and share. Dean remembered he had the first week.

_Sam slept like a log on his new seizure medication. He did all right during the day on it, but oddly enough at night when he took his final dose for the day it knocked him out. Dean was fast asleep when a loud beep intruded into his dreamland date with a Playboy pinup. He grumbled into his pillow trying to ignore the noise that seemed determined to ruin his good time, and then with a sudden gripping panic he shot up into a sitting position in his bed. His eyes taking one quick moment to see the red light flashing on the monitor and hear its incessant beep as his mind filled with one thought, one purpose, get to Sammy. John's sleep had been shattered by the unexpected alarm sound as well. It had been more muted through his closed door, but as Dean threw open his door the sound filled the hallway. John bolted from his bed. His heart hammering in his chest out of fear. Both men shared horrified looks as they burst into Sam's room._

_Sam remained sleeping soundly as Dean ran to him. John reached out and stopped Dean from grabbing his brother. "No, Dean look…" John said as he pointed to a clearly non-seizing Sam. "He's not having a seizure."_

"_Dad, the alarm…" Dean barked._

"_Easy, son," John answered as he bent down and picked up the pulse-ox monitor clip that had worked its way off. "Sam must have knocked it off in his sleep." John gently grasped Sam's hand and clipped it back in place. And, to Dean's relief he saw the oxygen levels that weren't showing a moment ago glow into life with a 98. Both Dean and John relaxed noticeably and they left much more quietly than they had entered and Sam was never the wiser._

"_Man, that new medicine really knocks him on his ass at night," Dean commented. Both men had sat up in the kitchen for an hour talking about anything since both were too wired to sleep immediately after the Sam scare. "Dad?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_That kinda shook me up," Dean's voice shaky at the admitted fear. John let out a sigh and patted his son's arm._

"_Me too son. Me too," John replied._

Dean pulled into the driveway and into the garage. It still seemed strange that everything he had wanted for the longest time had fell into place. He had his family with him, but there had been a huge price that all of them had paid in one way or the other. He walked into the kitchen and found his dad reading the paper, and Sam was digging in the freezer for his whole wheat frozen waffles. _Man, who ever heard of a whole wheat waffle_, Dean mused in his own head. _I have a health food freak little brother_.

"Everything go okay at the airport?" John asked putting his paper down.

"Yeah," Dean answered pouring himself a cup of coffee. Sam was still digging. The freezer was fuller than usual since Missouri had pre-cooked almost three weeks worth of main dishes and had frozen them. "So, Mr. Organic," Dean quipped in Sam's direction. "Looking for those whole wheat pieces of crap you like to eat?"

"Not crap," Sam mumbled from the freezer.

"What ever you say," Dean volleyed back and took a seat at the kitchen table across from his father. He grabbed a discarded piece of the newspaper and started to read.

"Fff…found them," Sam's voice was excited. Dean just rolled his eyes. John lowered his paper slightly and watched his boys. Dean had his nose in the paper just like his old man and Sam was confidently working the toaster oven to toast his waffles. The new year had come in relatively quiet with a good meal ala Missouri and they had watched the tried and true New Year's tradition on the TV and had watched the ball drop in New York City's Times Square. He felt lucky to be alive and to have his boys, and silently John Winchester prayed that their lives would have a quiet year. However, something in his gut whispered a different answer, and he pushed it away … for now.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, this chapter wasn't quite as long as the last, but still a little chunky. I hope you enjoyed it, but without your comments and reviews I have no idea how I'm doing.**

**And, to everyone that takes the time to review a chapter they have read … I appreciate it.**

**Read and Review!**


	21. To Wish Impossible Things

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Posting a little early, but thought you wouldn't mind. As always thanks for each and every comment and review. Also, to every reader that has sent me a PM with questions, comments and reviews, thanks! I will make an effort to update at least once a week, and depending on how fast a chapter comes to life maybe occasionally more than once a week. Thanks for your patience between updates! It's very appreciated.

Side Note: Also, please, note there has been a time advance. And, one backward and forward shift, as well. They are all noted

**Chapter Twenty-one**

**To Wish Impossible Things**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_The stars are not wanted now, put out everyone; pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; pour away the ocean, and sweep up the woods; for nothing now can ever come to any good."_ Poem excerpt by W.H. Auden, _Stop All the Clocks_

**Three Months Later, March 2008**

"John?" Dan came around the corner of the body shop where John was taping off a car to paint the body.

"Yeah?" John looked up from taping down paper over the windshield.

"You doin' okay?" John smiled and shook his head with amusement.

"Dan … I'm fine. It's not like body painting is that strenuous. Look, the doctor gave me the okay to drive and return to work."

"Yeah, but I'm just makin' sure."

"I'm not running a marathon," John pointed out. "I'm good." John still attended his heart rehab for two hours every Friday afternoon. He had reduced his work week since the heart attack. He worked Monday – Thursday now and gave himself a three day weekend to relax with his boys. Dean had returned to his usual schedule with Larry and things were good.

**Two Weeks Earlier, Last Week of February 2008**

Sam sat at the bus stop on Webber Street waiting for the bus to his dentist. He was getting over a bad case of the flu and Dean and his dad had tried to convince him he could always cancel his dental check-up and cleaning appointment until he felt better, but he didn't want to mostly because he was taking the bus to the doctor's office all on his own, and he didn't want to pass up the chance. And, since the holidays had passed Dean and John had been true to their word about letting Sam have more roaming space. He only had to tell them where he was going and the route being taken. Of course, every once in a while his cell phone would ring and it was his brother checking up on him, but he wasn't complaining. He still attended his rehab on Thursday's and Friday's and he was really pushing his occupational and speech therapy. Mel did his PT with him to help his reflexes improve and he still tried to run, but that never worked out. But, he would keep trying.

**Present Time: The Winchester House, 5:00 PM**

"Dean stop looking at your watch," John chided. "You know he was going to the dentist after work for a filling he needed after his check-up and cleaning two weeks ago, and the office is across town. He'll be back soon. He had to transfer buses, remember?"

"Yeah, and that's what I'm worried about dad. I mean, yeah Sammy getting all over town these days, but it's usually from point A to point B and no stops in between."

"I know, but he'll be fine." John handed Dean three plates for the table. "Here, set the table and take your mind off it."

"What are you making?"

"Grilled chicken," John answered. "And some mixed veggies." Dean grinned to himself, but John didn't miss it. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean offered.

"Dean," his father's tone was annoyed.

"I'm not making fun … it's just I'm glad you're taking all that heart rehab stuff seriously. And, I never thought I'd see the day we were eating like this. I mean, maybe fried chicken from KFC, but you grilling the chicken and stuff. Maybe, you oughta have your own show dad," Dean said with a chuckle.

"Ha-ha," John replied sarcastically. "Well, it's either eat like this or watch your old man drop over again." A haunted look passed over Dean's face for a moment and was gone. John frowned. "I didn't mean anything by that son," he offered quickly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine dad," Dean answered. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." John's attention was drawn away for a second and Dean looked at him.

"What?"

"I think I just heard the front door," he replied with a smile. Dean broke into a relieved smile as he called out from the kitchen.

"That you Sammy?"

"Yeah," came the tired reply. Sam walked into the kitchen and John and Dean both looked at him.

"Damn Sammy, you look like crap," Dean offered.

"Thh…thanks Dean … I fff…feel the love." Sam replied as he sat heavily in the chair at the table.

"You feelin' okay Sam?" John asked looked at his son's milk white complexion. "Was the dentist bad?"

"No, it www…was fine. Just tired." Dean shook his head as he sat down in his seat.

"You did good Sammy," John congratulated. "You didn't have any trouble with the bus transfer?" John felt he should be supportive if Sam's accomplishment.

"Nnn…no it was fff…fine," Sam answered with an exhausted voice and slight grin.

"Leave it to you Sammy to catch the flu in spring. Only you man, only you." Sam rolled his eyes, but chose not to respond to his brother. "I mean, really Sammy, you've been down with this for a while. I thought it was clearing up, but you look more like a corpse everyday."

"It's ggg…going away," Sam retorted. "Not a cor…cor…pse."

"Yeah, whatever you say," his voice not convinced. "Well, maybe you should hit the rack early," Dean suggested.

"I'm fff…fine. Not ttt…tired. I'm not …" Dean raised a hand and finished the thought for his brother.

"…a little kid. I know," Dean said with a sigh. "It was just a suggestion. So, how'd the bus transfer go?"

"Fine."

John finished with the food. He didn't mind being the primary food preparer during the week; after all it made sense since he got home before Dean. John and Dean were having a lively conversation about the sportronic transmission in the new Mitsubishi's and in the midst of talking about torque they realized one member at the table was quiet. They both turned their heads to look at Sam and they smiled. Sam had propped his elbow up on the table and leaned into his hand. He was fast asleep as his hand supported his cheek and chin.

"Not tired my ass," Dean whispered under his breath as he exchanged looks with is father. John smiled warmly toward Sam. He reached over and placed his hand on his son's other cheek. The touch woke Sam and he opened his bleary eyes.

"Hey son," John said softly. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and call it a night." Sam knew he had fallen asleep at the table, and it would be pointless to say he wasn't tired, so he conceded.

"Okay," his voice tired. John reached down and patted Sam's hand.

"Geez Sammy your hand is ice cold," he commented as he covered the cool hand with his own warm broad one. "You're a little ice cube," he said as he attempted to rub Sam's hand. He pulled away.

"It's okay ddd…dad. I'm fff…fine."

"Well, look tomorrow is Thursday and I'm thinking you should skip rehab this week. You're still trying to recover from the flu … you can't seem to shake, and you're not looking that great Sammy."

"No," Sam answered. "Ccc…can't miss rehab." John sighed.

"Fine, but if you feel bad I want you to call me and I'll come pick you up early, okay? I can leave work early. I don't mind." Sam smiled and nodded.

**Later that Evening**

"Still sleeping, huh?" John asked as he looked up from the couch when Dean walked in carrying the hand held monitor.

"Yep, out like a light." Dean sat down next to his dad and put the monitor on the coffee table as they settled in to watch an A&E Crime Mystery special. John eyed the monitor.

"So, he's all hooked up?"

"Yep, I snuck in to make sure."

"Good."

Sam opened his eyes as the early hint of morning sun came in through the curtains of his room. He felt fatigued, and hated that he couldn't shake the flu. He had honestly been feeling a little better a couple weeks ago, but about a week after his dental appointment he started feeling like crap again, but it felt different. Mostly he was just tired, and it seemed in the last few days his arms and legs were always cold. He turned from his side to his back and just stared at the ceiling. He lifted his hand and looked at his pulse-ox clip and rolled his eyes. He reached over and shut the monitor off and removed the clip. A knock at the door brought his eyes toward the noise. "Hey Sleepin' beauty move your ass. Dad's takin' you to rehab before he goes to work." Dean opened the door a crack and peeked in. Sam made eye contact with his big brother.

"I'm up," he groaned. Dean surveyed his brother from across the room.

"Man, Sammy," Dean shook his head. "You need some sun or something. I've seen two day old corpses with more color than you."

"Sss…shut up," Sam complained. "Ddd…don't you hhh…have to be at wor…work?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dean waved an impatient hand in his brother's direction. "I'm goin'" Dean replied. "See you later." Sam waved him off and Dean closed the door behind him. Sam let out a slow breath and sat up. The room swam around for a moment and he closed his eyes against the fleeting moment of light-headiness. It passed and he got up. He took a shower and his meds, and met his dad in the kitchen.

"Morning Sammy," John turned smiling from his glass of orange juice. He looked his son over. "You feeling any better this morning? Cause' you look pretty pale kiddo."

"I'm fff…fine dad." Sam answered.

"Well, eat something I don't want you going to rehab all day without some food on your stomach."

"They fff…feed me lunch dad," Sam countered.

"Yeah, well that isn't until later and you need some food to start the day."

John pulled up in front of the rehab center and squeezed Sam on the shoulder as his son started to get out of the truck. "What?" Sam asked.

"Remember what I said last night," John hedged. "You feel like you want to call it a day early just call me and I'll be here, okay?"

"I'm ggg…good dad." Sam assured.

"Okay, son. I'll see you around 4, all right?"

"Yep." Sam offered a small smile and got out. John watched him until he was inside the building and then he pulled away to go to work back in the city.

**Later that Day, 1:00 PM**

"Hey, Sammy," Mel welcomed the young man. "Have a good lunch?" Sam shook his head.

"Not ttt…that hun…gry. Had some jjj…juice."

"Still fighting that flu, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam conceded.

"Maybe, we can postpone your PT," Mel offered.

"No," Sam answered simply.

Mel put Sam through his paces on the exercise machine for his legs and upper body. He had him walk on the treadmill for twenty-minutes. And, then he worked out his muscles on the mats to make sure he didn't cramp. "I scheduled you for some pool therapy today, but maybe hydrotherapy would be better. It's nice and warm. Might help you feel a little better," Mel suggested with a smile.

"Okay," Sam replied.

"Here," Mel reached down and pulled Sam to his feet. "Let's get you situated." He turned to head toward the pool area.

"Mel?" Sam's voice sounded strange and Mel turned just as Sam collapsed forward. Mel grabbed him easily and lowered him to the ground. The other staff present in the room ran to help. One staff member hit a red emergency button on the wall to alert a response team. Sam was limp and unresponsive. Mel's hand reached for Sam's neck as he leaned in to listen and feel if Sam was breathing. What he encountered was a contradiction in terms. He felt Sam's shallow exhale, and watched his chest rise slowly, but there was a distinct absence of a pulse beneath his fingers on Sam's neck. "He's breathing, but…"

"Mel? What is it?" Corrine another therapist asked as she kneeled next to Sam waiting for help.

"I can't feel a carotid pulse," Mel replied as he leaned down and put his ear on Sam's slow rising chest. "I can hear his heart, but it's slow … damn slow." The emergency response team came into the gym area and quickly surrounded Sam.

"What do we got?"

"He stood up and passed out. His breathing is shallow, but I can't get a carotid on him. I don't know what the hell is wrong. His heart is beating too slowly." Mel's face was agonized. He kept reviewing in his head if he had missed something during the PT session, a warning sign, but Sam had been okay, he thought. Tired, but fine.

"Get him on a monitor and what's his SAT's?" Marcus, a third year resident ordered. They proceeded to hook Sam up to a heart and oxygen monitor. "Yeah, I can't get a pulse. What the hell?"

"SAT's are 90." One respondent answered.

"Okay, start bagging him," he turned to look at the monitor and his eyes went wide. "Christ," he hissed. "Draw up a high-dose Epi," he barked. "His heart rates only 40. Get the damn meds drawn up. I gotta start supplemental compressions. He's barely profusing his body at this rate."

The meds were administered and by now Dr. Myers had shown up having been alerted there was an emergency in the gym, and then she had heard Sam collapsed. "Heart rate 65 with compressions."

"Hold supplemental compressions," Dr. Myers instructed. She looked at the monitor. "His rate dropped to 52, but is holding. Pulse is weak and thready. Push an amp of Lidocaine. I'm ordering a Life Flight helicopter to take him to Capitol. Keep his rate above 50."

The medical helicopter landed on the helipad the rehab center had in the rear of the building. The crew was apprised of Sam's current condition, as well as his medical history including his current meds. They hurried him to the helicopter. Dr. Myers stood watching as Sam was put into the helicopter. She stood off away from the helicopter blades as they spun to life. And, just before the doors closed she saw the medic leaning over Sam while another one intubated him and began bagging him. She saw a brief moment before the doors closed where they were beginning compressions again as they administered an IV drug. The helicopter lifted off and Dr. Myers knew she had a call to make.

**Pro Care Auto Repair**

"John?" Calvin, one of his co-workers came around the corner. "You got a call buddy on line 3. Sounds important." John went to the nearest phone and hit line 3.

"John Winchester," he answered. The conversation lasted only a minute or two before John was flying out of the garage. He had called Dean at work and told him about Sam. John knew Dean was rushing from one end of the city while he was coming from the opposite side. He was shocked when Dr. Myers had said Sam collapsed and it wasn't a seizure. He felt this cold weight in his stomach as he recounted everything Dr. Myers had told him on the phone during their brief conversation. His baby boy was in trouble.

**Capitol Region Medical Center: Two Hours Later**

Dean paced back and forth in front of his father. John reached an arm up and stopped his son. "Dean, please, you're wearing a path. Just sit." Dean sat heavily down into the hard cushioned chair in the ER waiting room.

"How can you be so calm dad? Sammy's been in there for over two hours and we haven't heard word one from those idiots in there." John scrubbed a hand over his weary face, but said nothing. Finally, he looked at his watch a short while later and let out a loud frustrated sigh. He got up abruptly. "Where you going?" Dean asked.

"To get some news on your brother." John walked up to the ER main desk.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Yes, my son, Sam Winchester was brought in by helicopter over two hours ago. I want some news on my son. I haven't heard anything." The desk clerk tapped on the computer, and looked up.

"I'll try to find someone to talk to you. The computer says he's still here in the ER.

"Look, I want to know the condition of my son, now!" John barked. Dean stood next to his father as the clerk went back into the trauma area.

"Dad," Dean put a hand on his father's forearm. "Watch your blood pressure, okay. I can't handle one more thing right now." John nodded.

"I'm okay son." The clerk remerged from the trauma area.

"Your son is still being triaged. His doctor is Dr. Karl Borsody. He'll be out in a bit for you. Please, just take a seat in chairs."

Dean sat next to his father waiting for word on Sam. His mind telling him this was just all something blown out of proportion. Sam was fine. Yeah, his father had told them there was something funky happening with Sam's heart, but they'd fix it. Sam was going to be okay. John's hand darted over to Dean's thigh and tapped him. "Family for Sam Winchester." Both men stood to meet the doctor. "I'm Dr. Borsody." John shook his hand.

"I'm John his father and this is his brother Dean. What's wrong with my son?" John cut to the chase.

The doctor led them to a family conference room. "I understand you've been waiting for quite a while, but I had to run some tests, and we've been fighting to keep him stabilized. Look, I'm going to say this as quickly as I can, and I hate to rush, but I'm going to give you a lot of information in a short amount of time because I need a consent paper signed."

"Just tell us," John spoke firmly as his eyes passed briefly toward Dean and then back to the doctor.

"I was called in to consult your son's case, and I have taken it over. I'm a cardiologist here in the hospital. Your son presented with a barely profusing heart rate. We have started him on multiple cardiac medications to help improve his heart rate and pumping. He isn't responding as quickly as we'd like. We are having trouble keeping his heart rate up and we're having to provide supplemental compressions to help him profuse his organs and body." John's face was unreadable. Dean felt his palms start to sweat.

"I don't get it," Dean spoke suddenly. "His heart's beating, right? Why are you doing compressions? I thought you never did that."

"As a standard no you don't, but your brother's heart rate isn't maintaining a rate that will keep him alive for long. His heart isn't beating strong enough to get blood to his brain, his vital organs, so we're helping him."

"Please, just tell me what's wrong with my son."

"I've done an ultrasound of his heart and I've found no congenital heart valve defects," the doctor paused.

"No, he doesn't have any. Sam was a healthy baby. Both my boys were." John replied.

"Well, the lack of valve defects spurred me on for a diagnosis. I was perplexed. Has your son been sick recently?"

"Yes, he had a bad case of the flu. It hung on for a while. He was still trying to shake it." John answered.

"Has he had any recent medical procedures or doctor visits?"

"Ugh," John's mind was reeling. "Yes, two dental appointments. He had a cleaning and check-up about 2 or 3 weeks ago. I think 2. And then the other day he went back for a filling. Why?"

"Well, I ran some tests and more than one blood test, and although your son's case it a bit atypical because of a lack of tachycardia, and no history heart valve problems or defects. But, as I said his case is highly atypical with his current cardiac response. I think the infection has had a chance to take hold, and has ultimately ended up compromising his ability to maintain a profusing heart rate," the doctor took a breath. "I think his immune system was fairly compromised by the flu and during his cleaning some oral bacteria entered his bloodstream, and ultimately ended up infecting the lining of his heart."

"What are you saying? My son has a heart infection?"

"Yes, it's called Endocarditis. And, his case is acute. I need to get your consent to engage the use of a machine we call the Thumper." The doctor placed the consent form out in front of John.

"What is it?"

"Normally this machine is only used on patients who have no pulse or heart activity and I'll be honest it is contradicted for this use, but I see no other option. Your son keeps requiring supplemental compressions as we struggle to keep his heart rate up. I will have the Thumper halted every five minutes to look at his cardiac status. We can't keep doing manual CPR and the Thumper will provide more adequate compressions to better help your son profuse his body. And, if we are able to get your son's heart rate to maintain over 50 then we will hold off the Thumper. It's my hope that the cardiac medications we are using will begin to take effect."

"Dean?" John turned toward his son. "Do you want me or you to sign?"

"You do it," Dean answered as his voice shook. "So this machine will do CPR?"

"Yes, and it has a sequenced ventilator, too. It will be placed over your brother and turned on. It will compress his chest just as manual CPR would provide only the Thumper is more effective and precise. And, quite frankly, it's a machine and won't get tired."

"I want to see my son," John replied.

"As soon as we have him more stable. When I feel there is a good moment I'll let you in to see him. I want to stabilize him here in the ER as best we can before I have him moved to the CICU." John nodded and signed the paper.

"Dr. Borsody?"

"Yes?"

"What are my son's chances?"

"The acute nature of his endocarditis and his blood work and other tests indicate the infection is quite severe." John knew the man was stalling.

"Just tell me," his voice strong.

"He's young, so he has that going for him. The mortality for this particular strain of infection ranges from 45 to 73 percent. It all depends on the nature of the infection and on any complications that could arise."

"And, my son," John urged. "Where does he fall in this range?"

"I can't stick a percentage on him just yet. But, your son," the doctor paused. "Mr. Winchester your son is in grave condition right now."

"But, this machine will help him. His blood will get pumped to where it needs to, right?"

"Mr. Winchester, I'll be honest this machine is basically providing gap coverage of sorts. If the cardiac drugs don't kick in, and his heart can't maintain a profusing output there may come a time when we'll have to have a different kind of conversation. But, I don't want to cross that bridge yet, okay?" John felt his world shift at that final comment. He nodded absently at the physician. The doctor excused himself and Dean felt a chill run through his body. John saw the small shiver work through his son. He leaned over and wrapped an arm around his firstborn and pulled him against himself.

"We're getting through this Dean. Sammy too. You hear me?" Dean leaned into his father and nodded his head. His eyes were burning with unshed tears.

"Dad?" Dean's shaking voice betrayed him.

"Yeah?"

"He's gotta be okay. Why is it always Sammy dad? This isn't fair."

"I know." John felt at a loss. "He's going to pull through Dean. We have to believe that. We aren't going to lose Sammy." Dean nodded. "Now, let's go back out to the waiting room and hopefully they'll let us see Sammy soon.

**Another Two Hours Later**

"Mr. Winchester?" John's head shot in the direction of the voice. He and Dean had both been staring off into space trying to forget how long it had been since they had spoken with the doctor. John and Dean both stood up and faced the physician.

"Hi, Doctor. How's Sam?"

"I'm going to let you both in to see him. It's going to have to be a quick visit. I can give you a couple minutes or so. We have been fighting to get him stable enough for transport. The Thumper is helping to profuse him much better. I'm worried that the cardiac drugs aren't having the desired effect as yet in helping to maintain an effective heart rate and cardiac output. I need to tell you that at one point when we stopped the machine at its five minute check your son had slipped into a cardiac arrest, but we were able to shock his heart and we had him back quickly." John's face paled. Dean felt like he'd been suckered punched in the gut.

"So, his heart _is_ beating," John reiterated to the doctor.

"Yes, although currently we are still providing him supplemental compressions."

"Has his heart rate been stable at all?" John felt desperate.

"He did hold a heart rate over 60 for about 30 minutes before he decompensated once again and needed help profusing his body."

"I just want to see him" John relented.

"Of course. I want to prepare you," the doctor began. "Sam is surrounded by a lot of equipment and IV's. He is on a specialized gurney and his arms are each positioned on arm boards out to the sides. His arms are rotated palms up and each arm is held in place by a loose Velcro strap. Each arm has an IV line and we've started a multi-port central line on your son, and you'll see that near his neck. The Thumper will be on and it isn't quiet. It makes an air piston noise as it operates. And, you'll notice a large flexible hose near Sam's feet under the sheet," the doctor explained. "It's attached to a patient warmer. We are trying to warm him up with heated air. You can touch him just be mindful of the equipment and IV lines." John nodded.

"I just want to see my son." The doctor nodded.

John and Dean followed the doctor back to the trauma room that had Sam. They noticed multiple staff around monitoring machines and administering injections. John saw Sam first. Sam was lying on his back exposed from the waist up. His head rested not on a pillow, but a circular foam support similar to ones used during surgery. There were wires and tubes that seemed to be coming from everywhere on his baby son. Sam's arms were outstretched like the doctor had explained. Sam slightly resembled the capitol letter 'T'. The Thumper was compressing Sam's chest at a regular rate, and the ventilator was hissing in conjunction with the timing of the CPR assistance device. John's stomach felt cold and heavy as he approached his baby boy. As John stepped out of Dean's way and his little brother entered his field of vision Dean stopped instantly and stared at Sammy in abject horror. He felt the bile rise in his throat.

Sam was deathly pale. The white sheet covering his brother's legs stopping short at his bare feet had more color than Sam. Dean couldn't break his eyes away from the machine compressing his brother's chest. He watched Sam's rib cage compress and decompress with the rising and falling piston action of the machine. It looked barbaric to him. John had walked over to his young son's side and touched his shoulder. The skin was deathly cold to the touch. He looked over at Dean who still stood in the doorway. "We can touch him Dean. It's okay."

Dean didn't move he just stared at Sam. His senses were being assaulted more than he thought was possible. His brother looked more dead than alive. "Dean," John spoke again. His son still stared. "Dean?" Finally, Dean tore his eyes away from his brother and looked at his father. John saw something in Dean's eyes he couldn't quite place as he had never seen it on his oldest child before. "Dean? Son?" John urged still not leaving Sammy's side. "It's okay come see your brother." Dean's eyes shifted to his brother's prone lifeless body and then looked at his father with stricken eyes. He shook his head slowly back and forth.

"I…I…" he attempted as he took a step back. "I…I can't … I can't do this," his voice trembled as he took another step back. "I can't…" and Dean suddenly turned blindly and escaped into the hustle and bustle of the busy ER trauma area.

"Dean!" John called out after his son, but remained with Sam.

"It can be overwhelming," a nurse near John replied. He looked at her for a moment and then back to the empty doorway. He understood the look on his son's face now because he had seen it in his own mirror when he had believed Sam was lost to them after his head injury. He wanted to find him and tell him it was going to be okay, but he honestly didn't know. Dean had dealt with so much over the past year and handled it with such strength and grace that John took it for granted that his oldest would handle this the same way. He had been so wrong to see Sam as his only fragile child. Dean was fragile too, and John feared that Dean seeing Sam in this current state may have finally been the straw that broke the camel's back.

**Forty-Five Minutes Later**

John sat in the ER waiting room alone. He hadn't seen Dean at all. He thought about calling him on his cell, but something told him that his son needed to come back on his own terms, so he'd wait. John saw the doctor approach. "Mr. Winchester, I just wanted to tell you that we're preparing to move Sam upstairs to the CICU. We've taken him off the Thumper and right now his heart rate is holding at 65, so I think the drugs may be kicking in a little. They are putting him in the larger special procedure room, so you'll be able to sit with him unless there is test or exam happening, okay?"

"Thanks. What if his heart rate drops in the elevator?"

"I'm going up with your son. Should he have any problems we are taking an assortment of life support drugs with us, a portable defibrillator, and if necessary we will provide supplemental compressions with manual CPR."

"What about the Thumper? You're not taking it with you?"

"No, the CICU unit has two devices up there and one has all ready been allocated to Sam's room and is ready should it be needed. We're moving him in a couple minutes why don't you go ahead and wait up there in the CICU waiting room. Do you need directions?"

"No, I'm familiar with the unit."

**The CICU Unit, 8:00 PM**

John sat in a chair against the wall in Sam's room. Sam was in the same position as he was in the ER with outstretched arms. There was always so much activity that John just remained on the wall and watched. And, when he wanted to see Sammy up close he'd stand and walk the short distance to his son. He was comforted by the fact that Connie his nurse from a few short months ago was Sam's care giver. He couldn't help but notice the distinctly empty seat next to his chair. Dean had bolted from the ER over two hours ago and John still hadn't seen nor heard from his oldest son. Sam's heart rate had been holding in the 60's for the better part of an hour now and John was elated for this small feat. He got up and stood by Sam. He touched his son's face. He avoided the ventilator and other tubes. His face was cold to the touch and he didn't move. John wished Sam would open his eyes, but the doctor had explained that Sam was deeply unconscious, not in a coma, but unconscious. The doctor had assured him it was for the best right now, and that if he were to start to wake they would most likely sedate him into a drug induced coma to help take the stress off his body. John leaned down and kissed the top of his son's head. He smiled. Sammy's hair smelled like vanilla and John ached.

Two hours later an alarm sounded at Sam's bedside that brought a large medical staff flooding in. John was wide-eyed. The sound he knew what it was because that hideous blaring noise cut off the slow, but steady beep of his son's heart monitor. "You'll have to leave Mr. Winchester." Connie spoke quickly moving John out of the room. He stared through the glass window into his son's room. He watched them start compressions on his son. He saw a nurse disconnect the vent from Sam as they attached a bag and began ventilating him. And, just before he was ushered away from the window toward the CICU waiting room he saw the doctor apply the defibrillator to Sam's chest and watched his young son's chest convulse upward from a shock.

**One Hour Later, CICU Waiting Room **

Dr. Borsody came into the waiting room, and when John started to stand he motioned him to sit back down. The doctor was thankful the small room was empty except for the two of them. John looked at the doctor and he felt dread. "How is my son? I've been waiting an hour to hear."

"Mr. Winchester," the doctor began. John interrupted.

"Please, just tell me he's alive." John's voice was desperate.

"He is," the doctor answered solemnly. "But…"

"But, what?" John blurted.

"Your son experienced a sudden cardiac arrest. He went into ventricular fibrillation or VF as we call it. It's where the heart isn't pumping, but instead sort of quivers. It isn't a life sustaining activity. We used cardiac stimulating drugs and shocked his heart to try and reestablish activity to the heart. However, he slipped into an asystole rhythm or flatline if you will." John felt his heart clench inside his ribcage.

"He was down for almost fourteen minutes before we were able to reestablish a pulse." The doctor shook his head. "Mr. Winchester…"

"John, please," he urged. The doctor nodded.

"John I wish I had better news for you right now, but we've had to put Sam back on the Thumper, and we've started him on some more aggressive cardiac drugs to help increase output, but take the strain off his heart at the same time. It's a delicate dance we're in right now. He isn't responding the way I would like right now. I'm sorry, but right now Sam's heart is starting to show the first stages of heart failure and I'm working very hard to reverse it. And, his kidney output is dropping. I'm trying to address that with some more drugs." John looked stricken but remained silent and the doctor wished he had some comfort to offer, but there was none. "John, Sam's body has been working so hard and his body and heart are simply getting tired. And, his heart because of the acute nature of the infection isn't profusing his organs like it should…" John interrupted.

"But, that's what that Thumper thing is for," his voice desperate. "It's helping improve his heart rate, right? So, his organs and brain can get the oxygen and blood they need."

"It's helping, but as I said in the ER the Thumper is gap coverage and actually Sam is the first patient I've ever used the Thumper on that wasn't in a full arrest. I'm not giving up on Sam," the doctor assured. "But, I need to put all the cards on the table for you now in the event decisions are needed later."

"What? Take my son off life support?" John snapped.

"We aren't at that point yet John, but right now you need to understand that your son's heart isn't profusing as it should. His kidney output is decreasing, and unfortunately some preliminary blood work is showing other organ involvements."

"What are you saying?" John's eyes were panicked.

"I'm doing my best to address every issue to try and get ahead of it before it snowballs, but as I said right now your son is showing the first stages of heart failure and unfortunately recent blood work and tests are indicating that Sam is beginning to show early signs of multiple organ failure." John paled and he felt an involuntary shiver work through him.

"Is…" John cleared his voice. "Is he dying?" The doctor dropped his eyes from Johns gaze for a moment and looked back up into the desperate father's eyes.

"We're doing everything we can," he tried to comfort. "I'm hoping the IV antibiotics take hold on the infection soon and it's my hope that once that happens his heart will rebound with the assistance of the cardiac drugs. And, I'm doing everything I can to manage the other complications. I believe if we can get the infection to respond to the meds we'll be able to reverse the other problems."

"When can I go back in?" John was scared shitless, but he wasn't running from this and as much as he wanted to block out everything he knew he had to face this head on. _Jesus, how did Dean handle all of this on his own_, John thought to himself.

"It may be another hour. I want to run some tests. I'll send Connie for you when you can come back in, okay?" John nodded.

"Thank you," his voice sounded hollow even to his ears and it seemed right because he felt hollow.

**Meanwhile, Route 50 outside Osage City**

The lights of the oncoming traffic were blinding to Dean's tear filled eyes. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. He clung to it like a life preserver in a storm tossed sea. His cheeks were streaked with hot tears. Some had dried leaving behind visible paths. He had abandoned his brother, no he had not just abandoned him, but run away from him and he hadn't looked back. He had run to the parking lot outside the emergency room and had gone to the Impala and left. He had no direction or plan. He just drove.

"Sammy," he choked out loud to an empty car. "I…I…" his bottom lip quivered as he tried to hold in the sob threatening to escape. His mind was frantic. He had seen his little brother through brain surgery, a coma, and seizing, but some how tonight was too much to bear and he had collapsed under the weight and magnitude of this crisis. "I'm not strong enough Sammy," his voice shook. "I can't …" a choked sob escaped despite his best efforts. Then the memories came:

"_Dean, honey, meet your new little brother Sam," his mother cooed. His father picked him up and put him next to his mother in her hospital bed. He looked inside the bundled blanket and saw his pink faced little brother looking at him wide-eyed._

"_Hi Sammy," he chimed. "I'm your big brother Dean." His young four-year old hand reached down and touched his brothers bobbing little hand. He smiled as his new baby brother gripped his finger and squeezed. "Look Mommy he knows me." Mary smiled warmly at her oldest child._

"_Of course, he does sweetie."_

"_Daddy?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_When can Sammy play in the yard with me?" John laughed._

"_Not for a while little man," he replied. "But, he'll be big enough to play with in no time at all. But, in the mean time you've got me."_

"_Okay," Dean smiled._

The memory shifted and he smiled at the mental picture of his sixteen year-old little brother. He was a gangly teenager and was all ready showing signs of how tall he was going to be. Dean thought back to that time … he was twenty and Sam was almost as tall as him.

"_Dean, come on man, Dad said you had to," Sam complained from the kitchen of a small house their father had rented._

"_Yeah, but he didn't say when," Dean countered._

"_Come on. I got my learner's permit. I gotta practice. Dad said you're supposed to teach me."_

"_Fine, but you scratch my car, and I'm going to kick your ass little brother." Dean warned. Sam smiled knowing full well it was an empty threat._

"_Dad, gave you the car," Sam countered._

"_Yeah, well, it's a classic, and I don't want her damaged by some kid who doesn't know how to drive."_

"_I can drive," Sam offered. "Pastor Jim let me drive his truck up and down his long driveway." Dean rolled his eyes._

"_Yeah, when you were fourteen, and up and down a driveway doesn't mean you can drive. Hell, I know how to stitch a cut, but that doesn't make me a surgeon." Dean replied. Sam resorted to the puppy eyes and Dean was at his mercy. Those damn eyes of his kid brothers had been a horrible weakness for him for as long as he could remember. Sammy eyes held the power of wrapping Dean around his little brother's pinky finger._

The memory shifted again and Dean felt the emotions threaten to drown him.

_His brother fought to stand in rehab and he made his first step and his brother had kept pushing himself and Sam had walked into his arms. Sam had battled through so much and had come back from the brink of death. His little brother was amazing and he felt proud to be Sam's big brother. Of course, he had always been proud, but his brother's will to walk and talk again had taken Dean's breath away. Sam had endured the personal loss of so much of his self and really never complained that much. It was only when he was frustrated or felt held back by his own limitations or his family's over protectiveness that he did rebel and complain. _Sam had always fought and now he neededDean to fight his way back from the dark place he slipped into while standing in that doorway of Sam's trauma room.

A mental picture of his little brother's lopsided grin assaulted his mind, and he squeezed the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. His eyes looked at the empty seat next to him and he felt cold. And, he felt the chill down to the very core of what made Dean Winchester who he was … he knew why he was cold … he had traveled to far away from his sun, his sole source of light, he was too far away from Sammy. His eyes darted to the road and he saw an opportunity. He made a wide U-turn and headed back toward Jefferson City. "I'm comin' Sammy." He drew in a steadying breath and pushed down on the accelerator.

**The CICU Waiting Room, 10:00 PM**

John looked at his watch and he hadn't heard from Dean, as yet, and he still hadn't been allowed to see Sammy since his most recent crisis, and the hour the doctor had proposed had come and gone and he still waited. John's seat gave him a vantage point to activity in the hall as staff came and went through the automatic doors of the unit. He looked at the clock on the wall and was about to stand up and go see what the hold up was for him seeing Sam when Dr. Borsody came in and sat down. John saw the man's tight facial features and could see the man was tired. "Why haven't I been able to see my son," John voice sounded accusatory, but the doctor didn't take it personally.

"John," his voice tentative, and there was something in it that made John stand up.

"No! I don't want to hear it. I want to see my son. I want to see Sam." His eyes were desperate and the doctor recognized the signs of a parent on the ragged edge that was frantic to make their child okay, to make them healthy.

"Please sit," the doctor encouraged. John felt his legs shake as he sat back down. "There's been a complication."

"What! What complication?" The timbre of John's voice was shaking.

"His kidneys are starting to show more signs of shutting down, and his output is becoming dangerously low, and we're doing everything we can right now. I can't have him getting septic on top of everything else. I may be forced to put him on dialysis until his kidneys rebound, but I'm not prepared to do that just yet. Sam is very weak and right now I think dialysis would be too much of a strain."

"What are you doing to help him?"

"I'm trying different drugs to help his kidneys, but if his output continues to drop I may need your permission to start dialysis."

"But, the infection in his heart," John replied. "If you get a hold on that then will the other complications correct themselves? His kidney's will start working better?" John was desperate for answers.

"If I can get a hold of the system wide damage that is actively happening … his kidneys should recover. But, should his kidneys fail the dialysis will take over their job."

"What about his heart?"

"We were able to withhold the Thumper for about ten minutes until his heart rate dropped into the 40's. I've upped his IV antibiotic dose and I'm trying different cardiac med cocktails."

"When can I see him?"

"I need to do another exam and run a couple tests. As soon as the room isn't so full of staff, I promise you'll be able to see your son." John nodded.

**CICU Waiting Room, 10:30 PM**

John felt the emotions finally break through as he sat alone in the waiting room. Sam was literally fighting for his life, and right now he was losing. John leaned forward placing an elbow on each knee and putting his face in his hands John Winchester did what he never allowed himself to do he wept … sure he allowed tears and had even cried, but this time his heart and soul were devastated with the thought of losing a child, his baby boy. He wept into his hands and didn't care who heard him.

Dean turned down the hall toward CICU. He had been directed to his brother's whereabouts from the lobby information desk. He was anxious to see his brother and to see his father. And, as he neared the waiting room that's when he heard it, and he knew without seeing that it was his father, and he was sobbing quietly. Dean had a feeling grasp him all at once _Sammy has to be okay. He's not gone. He's not!_ His mind raged.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was tentative and shaky. John's face rose suddenly from his hands.

"Son?" He stood and before Dean could even anticipate John pulled his son into a bear hug. "You okay?" John asked as he still held his oldest child.

"Me? Dad what's wrong?" Dean pulled back and looked at his father's tear streaked face. "Sammy, he's not…"

"No, he's alive." There was something behind that short sentence that spoke volumes to Dean. He was alive, but in trouble. "Where did you go? You sure you're okay?" John asked.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I left," Dean answered quickly. "I just had to get my head on straight it won't happen again."

"Dean, son, never apologize you got it? I understand," John assured. "And, you're here now."

"Dad, tell me," Dean urged. "What happened?"

John explained everything to Dean about what the doctor had said: the stages of heart failure, the organ failure, the possible need for dialysis … the list had seemed to go on forever, but now both men just sat numbly waiting for word on the youngest member of their family. The Winchester men felt like the center of their universe was askew without Sammy. Both men needed the warmth of Sam's light and right now they both felt cold and hollow without it.

_Code Blue CICU … Code Blue CICU … Respiratory Stat … Respiratory Stat_

John and Dean both looked at each other as the announcement echoed from the hallway paging system and they knew without being told … their light, their sun was slipping away in the dark embrace of an eclipse. John reached a hand out and covered one of Dean's and squeezed leaving it firmly covering his firstborn's hand.

Both men were cold as they felt their light flickering and fading into an abyss they could not follow, and in the icy confines of this small room they waited.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, as always let me know what you're thinking. I appreciate each and every comment and review. Now, I'm thankful for every faithful reviewer, but I'd like to hear from everyone at least once that has been following this story that has yet to review. So, how am I doing? Thanks in advance!**

**Read and Review.**


	22. Believe

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thank you for all of the reviews! I appreciate it. I hope you're all still enjoying the story. Many thanks. I had tentatively planned to finish this story before season 2 begins on the CW, and maybe I'll still reach that possible conclusion date, but I'll have to see. Life keeps throwing some curve balls my way, so it's only tentative. Now, this is an uncharacteristic second update in one week, so that means you may have to wait a bit for chapter 23, but I'll still try to have something ready by next week sometime, with luck. At any rate, thanks for your patience between any and all updates.

Read and Review!

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Believe**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Our lives are better left to chance I could have missed the pain, but I'd of had to miss the dance … Yes, my life is better left to chance. I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance."_ Lyric excerpt Garth Brooks, _The Dance_

**Thirty Minutes Later, CICU Waiting Room**

John felt numb as he waited silently next to his oldest son. Dean sat next to his father feeling the man's tension. He stared at the floor looking up at the sound of every footstep outside the waiting room. "Dad?" Dean's voice was tentative as he tested the waters with his father. John turned his head and looked at his son with expectant eyes.

"Yeah?" Dean opened his mouth to speak, but somehow the perfect words he thought he had to say had disappeared in between thought and speaking. Dean looked down and shook his head.

"Nothing," he said quietly. John clasped a hand over his son's knee and squeezed.

"What is it son?" Dean only looked at his father and shook his head again. John smiled warmly. "I know you're scared," John replied. "I am too." Dean looked at his father with alarm and John shook his head. "Not, so fast kiddo," John chided. "I'm not giving up on Sammy. All I said was that I'm scared, and it's the truth. It's okay to be afraid for your brother, but we both gotta be strong for him now."

"I know. We will." Dean looked away for a moment and then back to his father. "I didn't mean to make you think …"

"It's okay. Even if you had I wouldn't blame you." John conceded.

"John?" The doctor stood in front of the two men who had been so engrossed in their own moment that they hadn't seen him come in. The doctor regarded Dean with a polite nod and Dean did the same.

"What happened?" John's voice was serious. "That code blue was for my son wasn't it?"

"Yes," the doctor answered bluntly. "His blood pressure completely bottomed out, and his heart went into an arrhythmia that we were able to correct with a drug called bretylium tosylate it's a latter group antiarrhythmic drug, but allows me more flexibility than frequent use of lidocaine which has toxicity concerns when used a lot."

John wasn't concerned with drug names and the whys and how's all he wanted to know was that Sam was okay, and alive. "You said, able to correct, so he's fine? His heart didn't stop again?"

"No, it was a close call and we had respiratory paged to verify settings for the constant flow ventilator that we are using in conjunction with the Thumper."

"Can we go sit with him now? I want to see my son." John was standing at his full height looking haggard and stressed, and the doctor knew this man was just about at his parental limit in being kept away from his child.

"Yes, please," the doctor answered. "I just wanted to tell you where we're at right now and that we're being aggressive in his treatment." The doctor looked pointedly at Dean remembering that the young man had bolted from the ER. "The Thumper is in use," he said looking at Dean. "Are you going to be okay with that?"

Dean nodded. "I'm fine."

"All right," the doctor replied. "I'll be in his room shortly to turn the Thumper off and check his heart rate." Both men nodded.

**Two Hours Later, Sam's Room**

Dean was alone with Sam standing at his bedside. It was a little after midnight and John had gone down to the cafeteria to get some coffee for himself and Dean. Now, the eldest Winchester child stood looking down at his little brother. There had been some good news in the last couple hours and the Thumper had been taken off Sam at 10 PM. When the doctor had returned to Sam's room as promised earlier to check his heart rate and without assistance the young man's heart had continued to maintain a rate of 67 and Sam was still fighting.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean whispered quietly, so only his brother could hear. Also, it was late and it just seemed appropriate to whisper. Dean ran a hand over his brother's head pushing his bangs back. "I wanted to say I'm sorry, Sam … for runnin' out on you earlier. It won't happen again." Dean listened to the slow steady beeps of his brother's heart monitor. The ventilator continued its work of breathing for his brother. "Sammy, listen to your big brother okay," he smiled. "Well, you were never too great about taking orders, but this one you have to listen to okay?" He stared at his brother's pale and silent face. He glanced at his sibling's chest and flinched at the sight. Sam's chest was bruised from the repeated use of the Thumper, manual CPR and the multiple defibrillations he had endured over the last few hours since collapsing. The bruising looked stark and violent against the pale appearance of his brother's skin.

"Oh Sammy, man," Dean sighed. "Look at you." His eyes drifted to his brother's face. "You gotta keep fighting Sammy," Dean spoke softly. "That's an order." Dean looked up at the heart monitor and watched as Sam's heart rate went from 66 to 75. He stared at the number for the longest time and then smiled when it was clear his little brother's heart was maintaining that rate. He turned and looked at Sam with a smile and tears welling in his eyes, "That's my boy."

A couple minutes later a noise at the doorway broke Dean's attention from his brother to see his father standing there with two coffee cups. John saw his son's tears, "Dean, what is it? What's wrong?" John felt panic rise up suddenly. Dean smiled.

"Dad, look," Dean pointed to the heart monitor. John's eyes scanned frantically trying to see some problem, but his son's obvious smile seemed a contradiction. And, then it sunk in and John let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"For how long?" He put the coffees down and went to the other side of Sam's bed.

"A couple minutes now," Dean answered with a grin from ear to ear. "Dad, feel him," Dean instructed as he touched his brother's cheek staying mindful of the ventilator. "His face feels warmer, doesn't it? Look his lips aren't that gray-blue anymore. They're a little pink." John did notice the visual improvement albeit slight. But, at this point in these long hours he'd take any improvement he could get. He reached out and touched Sam's face with the back of his hand. He felt the little bit of warmth that had started to return to his baby son.

"Hey, Sammy," John cooed softly. "That's it son. Come back to us. Keep fighting Sammy. Dean and I are right here with you." Dean smiled and he saw his father's eyes fill with tears.

**Later the Next Morning: CICU Waiting Room**

Both John and Dean looked exhausted, but they were still feeling elated from the night's events. Sam had maintained his heart rate all through the night and John and Dean were feeling confident. John was hesitant to let himself believe that Sam had turned a corner, but at any rate, he was clinging to hope as he waited to hear from Sam's doctor. Dr. Borsody had been called around 4:00 AM and given a report on Sam's condition and that he still hadn't required the Thumper since 10:00 PM the previous night and was maintaining a heart rate in the 70's. "John? Dean?" The doctor entered the waiting room.

"Well?" Dean asked quickly before his father could even get his mouth open. The doctor allowed a small smile to pull at the edges of his mouth when he met the expectant eyes of Sam's big brother and father.

"Well," he began. "I think the high dose antibiotic IV therapy we started on him while still in the ER and have continued using is finally making some headway. Sam is one tough cookie," the doctor replied. Dean chuckled.

"Yeah, he is," Dean smiled and filled with pride for his little brother who even unconscious was taking this latest setback by the horns and was fighting.

"How is he though? His heart?" John pressed.

"He's maintaining his heart rate as I explained and that's a positive sign. We are helping though with a slew of cardiac meds, but his heart is profusing his body without mechanical help, and that's a big step. Now, as his blood pressure stabilizes I'm forced to start a mild sedation to keep him unconscious. I know you're probably both anxious to see him open his eyes, but right now that wouldn't be advantageous for Sam's well-being. Now, we haven't even reached the 24 hour mark with Sam's treatment yet, so you need to prepare for possible set backs," the doctor offered a comforting smile quickly. "Not that I'm saying there will be, but it's likely.

"What about his kidneys?" John craved more news.

"Well, I'm happy to say that his catheter output has increased, and although his output isn't as high as it could or should be … we are definitely making some headway in helping his kidneys rebound."

"But, you said earlier he was in the first stages of heart failure and multiple organ failure," John replied. "My son is making improvements, but what does that mean? Are his improvements across the board?"

"John, I understand your concern … I'm a father too," Dr. Borsody comforted. "As Sam's heart maintains a good rate and profusion it is helping his overall condition. I did some preliminary blood work earlier, and right now all factors are pointing in good directions. His heart currently is out heart failure and as his organs are being profused they are bouncing back, too. I won't sugar coat his condition John … he is still very critical, but I am optimistically guarded over his continued improvements. Your son's case has been atypical to what I've seen in the past and one of the most severe cases of endocarditis that didn't include heart valve involvement that I've treated in my fifteen year career."

"Can we see him?"

"Yes, both of you feel free to sit with him. I'm scheduling an echocardiogram for him later this morning, but until then by all means sit with him."

Dean and John both walked into Sam's room and both their eyes went to his heart monitor willing it to have a good number. They both smiled when they saw 78 as the current reading. "Hey Sammy," Dean spoke to his brother as he rested a hand on his head. "The doc says you're one tough cookie little brother," Dean leaned in closer to Sam's ear, "but, I all ready knew that." John smiled. He dared to allow himself to feel real hope for the first time since first seeing Sam in the ER.

"Sammy," John spoke softly as he stroked his son's upturned arm avoiding the IV lines. "Hold strong, son," John whispered. "Rest and let the medicine do what it needs to do. You keep fighting Sammy. I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." John reached up and stroked Sam's forehead with a thumb, and he smiled. Dean noticed.

"What?" He asked with a curious smile.

"It's nothing," John began. "It's just when he was a baby and would wake up restless at night I would stroke his forehead with my thumb and he'd quiet down and watch me with his big eyes and then drift off to sleep. I hadn't thought of that in years," John commented with a warm smile as the memory filled him up. Dean grinned.

"Was I that easy as a baby to calm down?" John snorted quietly.

"Hell no," he answered bluntly with a broad smile. "Son, you would have nothing to do with me trying to comfort you. You only wanted your mom for about the first three months, and then I guess you decided you were stuck with me and decided to cut me some slack. Man, I remember when your mom had a bad cold, and was laid up for a few days … it was a couple days past your four month birthday. She wasn't nursing you then because she was sick, so I had to go the formula route with you. You didn't like formula that much and you especially didn't like getting it from me." John looked at Dean and saw how intently his son was listening and continued.

"Well, I got the formula made and kept you downstairs with me because you were carrying on something fierce and I wanted your mother to get some sleep. I remember I finally looked you in the face and said, 'Dean you gotta cut your old dad a break here. You're stuck with me for the long haul,' and then you just stopped crying and stared at me like you were measuring me up," John paused as the memory returned.

"And, then what?" Dean asked with expectant eyes. John smiled and a light chuckle escaped his lips.

"And, then you spit up all over me," he said with a smile. Dean grinned. "But, you took your bottle and then let me burp you, change your diaper, and never cried once. Finally, I took you back upstairs and sat in the rocking chair with you until you fell asleep, and from that day on … I felt like you had finally accepted me as your father." John laughed. "I know it must sound crazy, but that's how I felt."

"Dad?" Dean spoke quietly.

"Yes, son?"

"Thanks for that." John reached up and cupped the side of his firstborn's face. Dean found himself leaning into the touch.

"I know I've been a hard ass on both you boys since…" he paused. "Since your mom passed, and I wasn't the father you boys deserved. Sometimes I think back to the man I was when your mother was still alive, and the father I had been, and I find myself wishing to undo the years and give you and Sammy the lives you should have had even if we didn't have your mom. I'm sorry Dean."

"Dad, you did the best you could. I know losing mom was hard on you more than I could understand." John shook his head.

"No, Dean," John began. "You know how I felt." And John inclined his head toward his youngest child and Dean looked at his little brother. "You love your brother so much. You always have even from the moment you first saw him. Hell, I think you loved him even before he was born," John replied. "Do you remember how you used to talk to your mom's stomach? Man, you'd have whole conversations with Sammy before he was even born." Dean looked at his father and nodded with a Dean Winchester smile.

"I remember," he said quietly as his eyes surveyed his unconscious brother.

"I'm glad you remember that," John conceded. "And, always know that you do understand the feelings of loss Dean, so never think you don't understand because you do." John reiterated.

**Five Days Later**

John and Dean had decided until Sam's condition was upgraded from the CICU to the CCU neither of them would decide who was going to return to work on a limited basis dependent on Sam's recovery, but they knew at least one of them needed to return. They were able to go back and forth at home for a couple hours in the morning and evening during rounds and shift changes when visitors weren't allowed in patient rooms. Dean sat reading through Sam's chart that was kept at bedside. He looked at the pages and pages of medications he was either on or had been on since coming to the ER almost six days ago. The list read like some foreign food shopping list: _Vancomycin_, _epinephrine, atropine, calcium chloride, sodium bicarbonate, dobutamine, dopamine, lidocaine, bretylium tosylate, lasix, nipride_. The list seemed to go on and on and some meds were marked _current_ while others said _suspended_ or _discontinued_. He looked at the various IV fluid bags around his brother, as well, and saw words like: _D5W, Lactated Ringers_ he shook his head at the sheer volume of medicine and fluids and every one of them he was silently thankful for because they were saving Sam's life. And, he also noted that he was receiving IV injections of his seizure medications, too, and was thankful that they were following his dosage schedule for those meds.

Sam's heart rate had been between 75 and 84 most of the time with only small variations now and again. Sam hadn't needed any supplemental compression in almost six days. Dr. Borsody had pulled Sam off his sedative early in the morning and Dean and John had both been waiting for him to open his eyes. "Interesting reading material," John commented as he walked into the room indicating the chart.

"Nah, it's all Greek to me, but I like to look anyway."

"Yeah," John replied. "Here … it's juice." He handed Dean a styrofoam cup.

"What? No coffee?"

"I want you drinking something healthy. Look I got one too," he conceded. "Anyway, coffee on an empty stomach doesn't sound appealing. Has he moved?"

"No, not yet." Dean grinned. "I think he knows we're waiting on him, and he's just making us sweat it out." John chuckled lightly.

"I think you may be right son. It would fit… after all, like I said your brother was a good baby and very easy to comfort, but as he got older, well … I shouldn't have to say this, but I don't think you'd disagree, but our Sammy, he's what you'd call contrary by nature." Dean smiled and laughed. Both men looked at Sam for a long moment and resumed their conversation.

Sam's arms were no longer outstretched like they had been, and were at his sides now, and his gown which had spent most of its time peeled down to expose his chest had been returned and covered the slowly yellowing bruises that had begun to fade. And, a thin sheet and woven cream colored blanket covered him. There was a rustling noise that caused Dean and John to stop talking and they were instantly at Sam's side. "I think he moved his leg." And, then as if on cue the blanket moved slightly as Sam shifted toward consciousness.

"Sammy?" John spoke softly and he stroked his bangs. "Sammy, can you hear me? Open your eyes son."

It seemed like an eternity, but it was only a couple minutes and John and Dean were rewarded with Sam's dark eyes. They went from his father's face to his brothers. They looked tired, and confused. He suddenly started gagging against the intrusion he felt in his throat. Dean held his arms down as his brother's heart monitor beeped rapidly. "Sammy, hey, hey, little brother, it's okay. Calm down. It's your breathing tube Sam. Stop fighting it. Shh …. It's okay." Dean attempted to assure. Sam turned panicked eyes from his brother to his father and John smiled warmly.

"Listen to Dean Sam," John confirmed. "You're okay, stop fighting the tube and relax." John and Dean both reached for one of Sam's hands, and were rewarded with a weak squeeze and he calmed down and stopped rebelling against the tube.

**Three Weeks Later, CCU **

Dean and John had debated about who would return to work for half days while the other stayed with Sam at the hospital and finally John had decided he would return to work for a modified schedule. Sam had made marked improvements and had been upgraded a few days ago to CCU and the Winchesters were ecstatic. Sam had been taken off the ventilator two days after waking, and his heart infection continued to show improvements with the IV therapy. He had been taken off all of his cardiac supportive drugs except two, and they were tapering those off a little each day since his transfer to CCU.

"Doc, when can we take Sam home?" Dean asked out in the hallway near the CCU nurses station.

"Well, he's been in the hospital almost three weeks. He's stable, but as we discussed his IV therapy should be for a total of 4 to 6 weeks. Now, ideally, I'd like to keep him here through week four, but I'd be willing to send him home on a home IV therapy program where a visiting home IV infusion nurse will come in and provide the antibiotic treatment for his final two weeks of therapy. He's on an every 12 hours dosage schedule, so a nurse would visit twice a day … once in the morning and once at night. I'm sure your insurance will cover the home infusion, after all, it's cheaper than additional hospital stay time."

"He wouldn't have to keep getting stuck with an IV needle would he?" Dean didn't want to see his brother go through anymore discomfort if he could avoid it.

"No," Dr. Borsody replied. "He'd be sent home with an IV port. He may have to endure one new IV stick, so that we can give him a fresh port and change veins. The antibiotic he's on can be rough on the veins and they have tendency to collapse. So, we'll start a new line on him before he leaves the hospital."

"Okay, so you just want him to stay through next week, and if I can get the insurance to say 'yes' than he can go home with his medicine?"

"Yes, and he'll be off his cardiac meds before he's discharged home, as well."

"So, who do I speak to about this insurance stuff?" Dean rubbed a hand across his face. The doctor smiled sympathetically.

"I can't stand the bloodsuckers either," he commented with a wry grin. Dean smiled in return. "Your brother is assigned a patient liaison while here in the hospital and you'll need to speak with that person. They are basically from the financial office and can handle all billing and insurance questions or requests." He pulled Sam's chart off the chart rounder behind the nurse's desk. "Let me see who he assigned to," the doctor replied as he looked the first page of admission information for Sam. "Here it is," he grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the information down for Dean. "His liaison is Laura Bertram, and her extension is # 1120, but her office is on the first floor in _Patient Financial Services_. You take the elevator to the lobby and make a left and that office is just past the employee benefits office. You'll see a big blue and white banner with an arrow. You can't miss it."

"Thanks."

Dean stopped in to see Sam, but when he saw that he was asleep not an unusual activity for his little brother since all of this happened. He left word with his brother's nurse Leanne that he had to go down to financial services, so if his brother asked he'd be back soon.

**Patient Financial Services Department**

_God, I hate bean counters_, Dean grumbled in his head. He rubbed his temple with a free hand. He looked at the clock on the woman's desk and he rolled his eyes. He had been in here crapping around for over an hour. This woman was giving him a headache.

"Look I still don't get how I could owe anything after the co-pay?" Dean complained. "My brother is insured on my policy and he has complete coverage. It's like $500,000 coverage per person per year."

"Yes, but there are contingencies in your policy that are in the small print, and your brother has required some additional medical care this year all ready, and based on the small print of your policy and the previous care this year. The available per year max out for your brother right now is $100,000."

"Okay, if he's got a $100,000 left on my policy for hospital coverage then what's the problem?" The woman's mouth turned up into this sarcastic smile that Dean just wanted to put duct tape over.

"Sir, your brother's current hospital charges are over $175,000." Dean's eyes went wide as he coughed against the sudden dryness of his throat.

"You're kidding right?" Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So, you're saying 75 grand isn't paid for?"

"That's correct, and based on your brother's physician care plan he intends to keep him through week four and wants to discharge him on home IV infusion therapy for another two weeks." Her fingers started tapping away on her calculator, and then she looked up at Dean. "Now, this is simply a ball park quote because I can't factor in any additional meds or procedures that may come up in the next week. And the home infusion nurse rates vary, but you're most likely looking at a minimum total bill left to be paid over at least $110,000. It'll probably be closer to $150,000."

"You're out of your mind," Dean couldn't wrap his mind around the numbers this woman was giving out."

"Mr. Winchester, your brother spent three weeks in the CICU … his room alone was just under $2,000/day, and the equipment that he required: the ventilator, the numerous meds and IV fluids, the PMCPRD…" Dean cut her off.

"PMC… what?"

"Oh, that is how my office abbreviates the device," she commented dryly. The total item description is Portable Mechanical CPR System: Thumper Model 1007 was used and allocated to your brother's room for his sole use."

"Yeah, so he wouldn't die. And, you're charging him to be kept breathing? He needed the ventilator to breathe." Dean was angry.

"Sir, medical machines cost money to maintain. And, of course, a patient will incur the cost of using a medical device. Even now his doctor still has him on a heart and oxygen … these things cost money. Your brother's life has been benefited by the use of these machines. Now, I could provide you a detailed bill summary of every charge."

"Yeah, you do that," Dean grumbled.

"We should probably go about setting up a payment plan unless you plan on paying for the bill in full at discharge."

"Do I look like the Federal Mint?" Dean hissed.

"I'm only doing my job," Ms. Bertram replied curtly. "If you want to go the payment plan route the hospital requires a minimum of a 5 percent good will down payment." Dean shook his head.

"This is ridiculous," he complained.

"Well, we aren't a charity hospital. Perhaps, if your brother requires anymore medical assistance you might consider taking him to county. If you can't pay they find ways to write it off." Dean's eyes were blazing.

"I don't think it's your place to tell me where to take my brother for medical help."

"It's merely a suggestion." Then Dean had a light bulb moment.

"I need to make a call. I'm going to have you talk to someone after I speak."

"Uh…" Dean put his hand up to shut the woman up. She bristled in her seat. He opened his cell phone and dialed.

**Meanwhile, Sam's CCU Room**

John sat watching Sam sleep. He had arrived at his son's room shortly after getting off work. He had run home to shower and change and had come straight to the hospital. Sam's nurse had told John that Dean was downstairs with Financial Services and would be back when he finished. He had also run into Sam's doctor and been filled in on Sam and the proposed discharge after next week. Sam moved in his bed and John leaned forward anticipating his son's waking. Sam's eyes opened slowly and he saw his father.

"Hey, Ddd…dad," he said with a small smile.

"Hey, kiddo. How ya feelin'?"

"Tired," his voice was quiet.

"Yeah, well, it's been a long rough three weeks son. Your doctor said you may be tired for a while. He said you'll probably feel back to your old self in another month or two."

"Where's Dean?"

"He just had to run an errand downstairs he'll be back when he can." Sam yawned and his eyes blinked slowly. John smiled. He reached up and gently grasped Sam's hand. "Why don't you rest a little more Sammy," he suggested. Sam offered a weak squeeze.

"'Kay," Sam sighed quietly and was quickly back to sleep.

John Winchester sat and watched his baby son sleep, and listening to him breathe pulled his mind back to many a night when he and Mary had first brought Sammy home he would wake up at night just to go in and watch and listen to him breathe. He had done it with Dean, too. It seemed whenever either of his son's had been too quiet at night in their cribs he felt compelled to check to see if they were all right, and was always comforted by the sound of their gentle breathing. A glimmer of a smile crossed his mouth as he remembered that both of his son's as little babies… As different as his son's were from the other in personality they had both shared one common thing as babies … they would both purse their little mouths and suckle empty air while they slept, and even now it was such a warm and endearing memory to him.

**Patient Financial Services Department**

Dean held his cell phone as the line rang for a second time and then a voice answered. "Lena Salvino."

"Lena, its Dean."

"Dean! Oh, how is Sam doing? I've been getting updates from Dr. Myers. She's been keeping tabs."

"He's doing a lot better. He's not a hundred percent yet," he paused. "Won't be for a little while yet." Dean let out a sigh over the phone. A Lena picked up on it.

"Dean? What is it? Has something happened?"

"My insurance isn't covering all of Sam's expenses since he's been to the hospital all ready this year. Um, his doctor wants to keep him for one more week, but he's willing to let Sam come home if I can arrange home IV therapy for another two weeks. Lena, they're saying his remaining bill is all ready $75,000 and that's just as of today." Lena could hear the frustration in Dean's voice and the exhaustion.

"Are they giving you trouble?" Lena sounded ready to do battle. Dean smiled at the woman's reaction. He had liked the woman from the first moment they had been introduced when Sam had been admitted to Ivy Ridge from the hospital. She was his assigned social worker. She was a feisty woman in her mid 40's and she had been a great help to Dean when he was trying to sort things out for Sam when he still wasn't speaking and was unresponsive. She had arranged for some state money for Sam, and Dean had put that money away always in preparation for Sam's home coming when he was released.

"Yeah, you could say that," Dean hedged. A secretary came to Laura Bertram's office door indicating she was needed at the front desk for something. She stood and excused herself while Dean continued on the phone. "Lena," Dean hesitated. "Look, I can't cover the bill. I mean, I can make payments, but they want 5 percent down and depending on the bill total I know I'm looking at a minimum of $5,000 …"

"Dean," Lena interrupted. "Don't worry okay. Look, Sam has coverage by the state. I know you don't like the 'special needs' label the state has given him, but it's only a label," she paused. "It doesn't define Sam as person, at least not to me."

"I know," Dean lamented. "But…"

"Don't Dean, I remember how long I had to go round and round with you to just take the monthly stipend check the state provides for Sam. Now, let me institute his medical coverage."

"But, he's covered on my policy."

"Dean, Sam is classified as a 'special needs' dependant adult under your supervision. He has state coverage. Look, let me talk to that pencil pusher. I will fax the hospital finance department the paperwork for the state coverage. The remaining bill will be taken care of, and I will make arrangements for the home infusion therapy to be covered, as well."

"But, what about max outs?" Dean complained. "I have plenty of coverage, but this woman kept saying my coverage for Sam was maxed out."

"Sam's medical history with the state dictates that he may require frequent hospital visits or stays during his lifetime based on the previous head injury and seizure disorder requiring medication. His condition is considered chronic; there aren't max outs for his care." She heard Dean sigh into the phone. "Dean, I know you don't like this or hearing what the state has to say about Sam on paper, but be glad for it. Now, you can focus on your brother and get Sam home in another week."

"It's not that I'm not grateful," Dean offered. "It's just … I wish Sam didn't need any of this stuff, and I hate the way they make him sound on paper."

"I know you do, but things are the way they are, and at least this has a solution. And, Dean, I know you and your father are probably both missing work or something … I want you to know that Sam is entitled to home health care should you need someone to stay with him while he is still on bed rest, and you need to go back to work. A registered home care RN would be there for him during the day while you and your father are at work."

"Really?"

"Yes," Lena assured. Dean felt a sense of relief at the thought a trained medical professional could actually look after Sam while he was home healing. He knew that although the IV therapy was for only a couple weeks once he was home the doctor had explained that Sam would need at least two months to be completely back on his feet. The doctor had all ready been clear that Sam could have his speech and occupational therapy continued after his IV therapy was completed, but Sam wasn't cleared for PT or to return to the library for at least two months.

"I'll keep it in mind," Dean replied.

"Good," she answered. "Now, put that busy body of a number puncher on the phone."

"Hold on."

Dean walked outside the office door and made eye contact with Sam's patient liaison and motioned her back. "Here, she would like to speak to you."

Now, Dean hadn't heard what Lena was saying, but he heard Ms. Bertram's stammered responses that had been flowing since she introduced herself to Lena.

"Well, yes, I…" she stammered. "I was just…"

Dean tried to hide a smirk behind a hand he put over his mouth. The fax machine hummed to life in her office as a few pages of documents came over. Dean watched Ms. Bertram look at them while she still clutched his cell phone. "Yes, everything is in order, but he should have just told me that his brother…" her words were cut off as apparently Lena continued to talk over her. "Yes, I have your contact information on the cover page … yes, yes, fine. I apol…" she frowned as she was cut off again. Dean was fighting a laugh. He could literally see the woman squirming as she was reprimanded like a small child. The conversation ended abruptly. "Here," Ms. Bertram grumbled. "She wants to speak to you." Dean took his cell phone back.

"Lena?"

"It's taken care of Dean. And, if she or anyone else in that financial office gives you any problems call me, all right?"

"Thanks Lena."

"No problem," she assured. "Just get Sam better and home. The home infusion will be paid for and I'll leave the arrangements up to you and Sam's doctor, okay?"

"Thanks."

**Ten Minutes Later, CCU**

Dean turned down the hallway leading to the CICU/CCU Unit. He was still frustrated over that bean counter woman Laura Bertram. She had tried to chide him like a child after he hung up with Lena. His mind went back to that moment.

"_You should have said your brother was special needs," she complained. "The hospital could be fined for this mix-up."_

"_I shouldn't have to say anything," Dean barked. "Did you even care to read his file? Look," Dean had pointed at his brother's paperwork. "See, that diagnosis from one of your quacks," Dean tapped the paper with anger. "Says, right there, by your own Chief of Neurology: profound brain injury. Persistant unresponsiveness. No chance for meaningful recovery. Recommendation: long-term care facility." Dean took a breath. "Of course, your quacks didn't have it right. My brother didn't turn out like that," he felt he had to assert. "Like I said, quacks."_

"_Quacks, sir," Ms. Bertram bristled. "It appears they were completely right. Your brother is clearly impaired if he is eligible for state assistance."_

"_You don't know my brother, so don't presume to talk about him," Dean warned. "You understand me?"_

Dean's mind locked down not wanting to waste one more moment on that banshee of a woman downstairs. He walked through the automatic doors, and felt happy to be able to walk straight into the CCU unit rather than take that small left turn that led into the CICU side of the large cardiac unit. He walked into his brother's room and quickly spotted his father sitting bedside reading the USA Today while Sam slept. John looked up when he heard movement. "Hi son," he smiled. "Leanne told me you had to speak with Financial Services, everything okay?"

"It is now," Dean replied. "I had to call Lena and she had to get things situated."

"What happened?"

"Oh, stupid asses down there said Sammy's coverage for this year has maxed out, and I had a balance to pay…" John interrupted him.

"_We_, Dean," John replied. "We have a balance to pay." He reiterated with a warm look. Dean nodded as he understood what his father was saying without saying the actual sentiment, _we're a family, and we'll handle this as a family_. "So, what did Lena do?" Dean pulled a seat over and sat down roughly.

"She went ahead and put Sam's through on state coverage. Well, I guess he always had it, but I never used it because I had him on my insurance. But, you know since the state considers him…" Dean's words drifted off as he cast a loving glance at his sleeping little brother.

"I know," was John's simple reply.

"Well, anyway," Dean continued. "Sammy has coverage now, and there are no max outs because they consider him chronic," Dean sighed heavily. "I hate the way that sounds … like he's some kind of…" Dean didn't finish his sentence. John reached over and dropped a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed trying to convey his unspoken understanding and support. Dean understood and smiled.

"Anything else?" John asked.

"Lena says Sam's entitled to home health care while he recuperates," Dean began. "She said if you and I gotta both return to work on a regular basis the state will supply Sam with a home care RN that can look after him until the doctor clears him for a complete return to activities."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I'm not gonna lie," Dean hesitated. "Part of me doesn't want to have anybody taking care of Sammy, but me or you when he goes home, but then there's the other part that knows I need to get back to work." He smiled. "After all, money doesn't grow on tress does it?" John chuckled quietly making sure not to wake Sam.

"Where did my son go?" John asked. "The one that thought a 9 to 5 life was worthy of putting a bullet in your head. I believe there was a time you considered it a fate worse than death." John mused.

"I grew up," Dean answered solemnly and found himself looking at Sam's peaceful face as he slept. John followed his firstborns gaze.

"I'm sorry," he offered quietly not knowing what else to say. Dean looked at him.

"Dad, I don't have any regrets. I'd do anything for Sammy," he offered bluntly. "And, there isn't much I wouldn't do for you either," he replied with a half grin. John understood the implication of the sentence. Dean would do just about anything for him as long as it didn't contradict or try to override Dean's big brother internal code or alarm system. John nodded with an understanding smile.

The two men sat in silence for a few minutes. "Dad?" Dean hedged.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want you going back full-time, okay? I want you to keep your current schedule. You know your heart…" John shook his head in an amused manner.

"My ticker is fine son. I'm doing my cardiac rehab, and I'm taking my meds and eating right. I'm not going to screw this up."

"I know," Dean conceded. "But, I still want you to not work full-time. We're not poor Dad we're doing okay."

"I know, but I don't want to see you working all the time either. You need a life Dean. How about dating or something? You're not a eunuch," John offered with a wry smile. Dean laughed quietly.

"My work schedule isn't that bad Dad. I haven't taken on anymore hours than we I started. I get a three day weekend. I'm doing okay." John leveled a look on him. "Okay, maybe I could go out now and again," he agreed.

"Then why don't you? What about that April girl? You still talk?"

"Dad, I'm not lookin' for some lifetime commitment. I mean…" he mused. "And, I don't want to use April dad. She's been too good to this me and Sammy. If it wasn't for her Dr. Myers would never have known about Sammy's case. Look, I'm good, okay, and anyway, I mean…"

"Son, I know where this is headed," John replied. "You're thinking that Sammy's always going to need you, need us, but I've been thinking he may want to get out on his own." Dean turned shocked eyes to his dad.

"What are you talking about? Sammy can't live on his own." He kept his voice low, but the incredulous sounding reaction couldn't be missed.

"It's just," John began. "I was talking to Dena a couple months ago since Sammy started taking the bus, and managing some of his life decisions." Dean interrupted his father.

"Dena? His occupational therapist… what did she say?

"She said that was the whole point of occupational therapy was to give Sam back his life," John paused and looked at Sam. "Or as much of it back as they can help him get. She said there are options out there for Sam that could eventually let him live on his own." Dean shook his head vehemently.

"No, no way," he replied. "Dad, with his seizure disorder it's not safe," Dean suspected his father was no longer convinced that Sammy couldn't eventually get a life of his own, one that meant he could live alone if he wanted, so his mind raced to find something else to deter his father's support of Sam out there alone. "He can't live on his own Dad. He'd be a sitting duck. Come on, I mean …" he looked around and lowered his voice to a mere whisper. "The demon, have you forgotten?"

"No, son, I haven't," John face was hard. "It's never out of my mind…never." Dean softened his eyes as a silent apology to his father for implying even slightly that John had forgotten about the evil that wanted Sam, as some sort of prize for himself, and the remaining Winchesters dead and out of the way as obstacles for his plans for Sammy. John understood the look in his son's eyes, and his face quickly softened. "Son, it will still be a while before Sammy's ready to be on his own," John held up a hand to stop Dean from interrupting him. "Just hear me out… when I say on his own I don't mean out there completely alone in the world Dean. It's just if Dena is right and there are options available that may allow Sam to have his own place one day how can we take that away from him if it's something he wants?" Dean sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. There was a long silence between the two men until there youngest family member broke it.

"Dean?" his voice was sleep inflected.

"Hey, Sleeping beauty it's nice of you to wake up," Dean kidded with a warm smile.

"Dad sss…said you hhh…had to go ddd…downstairs," he paused. "Every…thing okay?"

"Yep, everything's perfect. I got some good news," he sat on the edge of his brother's bed and patted a covered leg. "Can you guess?"

"I'm ggg…going hhh…home to…mor…row," he said hopeful. Dean laughed.

"Ah, not so fast there sparky," Dean smiled. "The doc's gonna keep you for one more week, but then he said he can send you home on IV therapy for your last two weeks of antibiotics. Sound good?" Sam smiled. His young features were tired and drawn as Dean looked at him. His little brother had been to hell and back these past three weeks, and it showed, but Sam was rallying a little more each day. And, Dean felt something he couldn't even describe when a genuine Sam Winchester lopsided-dimpled smile broke across his face. Dean smiled in return. "I take that look as a 'yes,' huh?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "I jjj…just wish it was sss…sooner."

"Hey, hey, Sammy," John chimed in as he stood up to approach his baby boy. "Let's not put the cart before the horse, okay. You'll go home when the doctor says you can and not before." John reached out and ruffled his son's long hair. "This is a certifiable mop, Samuel," John chastised, but with no anger. "You should get it cut or at the very least trimmed." Dean shook his head with amusement.

"You're preaching to deaf ears dad," Dean commented with a chuckle. "I've been trying to get him to do something with that brown mop for a while."

"I lll…like my hhh…hair ttt…this way," Sam replied as he ran a hand through his hair. "No cut…ting." John rolled his eyes at his youngest child.

"Losin' battle dad," Dean supplied.

"Yeah, I guess I better pick my battles wisely," he conceded. Sam laughed out loud at his family. And, the sound of Sam's healthy laughter filled up the cold hollowness that had settled inside John and Dean's souls three weeks ago when Sam was fighting for every heartbeat, and now they both felt a grace and warmth cascade into them, and they both knew as they exchanged silent looks between themselves that this grace and warmth they felt had a name … Sammy.

**Early Evening, Sam's Room**

Sam's dinner tray arrived, and John and Dean had brought up their dinner from the cafeteria and they ate with Sam. As the sun set behind the trees outside Sam's window John and Dean were both loathe to leave Sam, but he had insisted they sleep in their own beds and to go home, and had been insisting this one point since he was moved to CCU. Sam was sound asleep and each Winchester took a moment to say their goodnights to the youngest Winchester, and they slipped out quietly.

**To Be Continued**

**Okay, I thought you might like a chapter that ended peacefully. I appreciate all the reviews. FFnet had some real issues with review responses for chapter 21, and I tried to get to everyone, but it was a big mess while the review reply was down for the count. Thanks to everyone that takes the time to share their comments with me.**

**Read and Review!**


	23. Of Past Regret and Future Fear

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thank you for the reviews. I know I had previously planned to have this story complete by the season premiere of season two, but I highly doubt I will. Also, I've had a handful of email requests to continue the story long term. I'm considering it, but no promises. I have a specific arc planned for this story, but if I continue with this long term, of course the story will surpass the arc, and explore the aspect of the story that would have generally been left to the reader's imagination. Let me know what you think about continuing, and if it would something you as a reader would like to see.

**Side Note:** I've used some time leaps in this chapter. They are all noted.

Read and Review!

**Chapter Twenty-three**

**Of Past Regret and Future Fear**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_You never know what we could be in store for. The way it goes we're in for more of the same, one step beyond the flame … take my hand we'll face the fire together…" _Lyric excerpt Richard Marx, _Nothing Left Behind Us_

**Two Weeks Later, Early April 2008**

Sam had been home for a couple days now, and Dean had begrudgingly gone back to work. One of his co-workers had to leave town for a family emergency and Larry was short, and business was heavy. He hated leaving Sam, but the home care nurse that Lena had arranged was nice and she started her day early at 7 AM, so that she could be at the house when the IV infusion nurse arrived. Sam's IV therapy happened twice a day in twelve hour increments. It took two hours for the antibiotics to infuse, and the IV nurse usually showed up at 7:30 AM and then a different one showed up at 10:30 PM for Sam's evening dose. Sam didn't have to be awakened for the infusion to begin … thanks to the IV port. The infusion nurse simply had to plug the IV into the port and wait for the therapy to finish. Dean yawned into his hand in the kitchen as John entered the kitchen. "Pam here yet?" John asked his oldest son.

"Nah, not yet," Dean replied. "She told me yesterday she was gonna be about ten minutes late this morning." Dean had been relieved when Sam didn't really complain about needing a nurse during the day. And, Pam had a way about her that didn't make Sam feel like he was being babysat because he understood he had almost died from this infection and that he needed help and that his family needed to return to work.

"You look tired," John commented. "I'll stay up tonight Dean and wait for Joe to finish the evening infusion with Sam." When Joe had first shown up and introduced himself John had been the one to answer the door and took in the sight of this burley man in khaki's and a dark blue shirt with an embroidered emblem that said: _Jefferson City Medical Home Infusion_ and the his name had been embroidered as well: _Joe Callahan, R.N., IV infusion specialist_. Joe explained that evening home infusion was primarily handled by the male technicians unless a female employee needed the late shift. John understood, after all, some patients receiving care paid for by the state didn't live in the best areas and wouldn't be safe for a female at night.

"Nah, Dad, its okay. You have to be at work earlier than me and he finishes at 12:30 AM with him and is gone pretty quick. I got it." John shook his head.

"Look, Dean. I'm only working three days a week, and I'm off tomorrow, so I'll stay up tonight, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean relented. "At least Sammy sleeps through both visits most of the time. I still haven't got used to the fact he sleeps in now."

"Well, the doctor said he'd be weak and tired for a while and that sleep was the best thing for him."

"Yeah," Dean replied. There was a light knocking at the front door and Dean walked out of the kitchen to answer it. It was Sam's home care nurse. "Morning Pam," Dean offered a tired smile.

"Good Morning Dean," she surveyed the young man. "Late night again, huh?"

"Yeah, well, only for another week and then Sam's IV therapy will be done." He offered. "Would you like some coffee or something? I just made a fresh pot."

"No, I'm good thanks. Sam still sleeping?"

"Yep."

"Well, I'll wait for Corinne to get here. If you have to head out I've got it," she offered. Dean looked at his watch. He sighed. Although, he didn't normally get to work until 8 or so, today he said he'd get any early start on some backlogged cars for Larry. Dean felt a sense of obligation to the man because he had been so completely understanding to his family situation and never complained once when Dean would have to take off for family reasons. Larry was a good guy and Dean didn't want to leave him in the lurch.

"Thanks Pam. You got all my numbers and my dad's if you need us," he still couldn't stop himself. Pam had been coming for a couple days now, and there was a general routine all ready developing. She smiled.

"The numbers are in my paperwork, plus on the fridge," she replied with an all knowing smile. Dean felt the heat of embarrassment rise in his cheeks.

"Sorry, it's just…" she raised a hand to stop him.

"You don't have to explain. After everything, I'm sure you and your family have been through with this infection you're still a little gun shy to leave him since he got discharged a couple days ago. It's okay. I understand." Dean nodded. John walked into the room with his truck keys.

"Well, I hate to cut and run," he said. "Hi Pam."

"Hi John," she replied. The Winchester men from the start had insisted she use their first names and to dispense with formalities. Sam liked Pam and that was enough for John and Dean. John slid down the hallway for one quick peek at Sam and then he was out the door and as he backed out of the driveway he saw Corinne pull up to start Sam's infusion. He offered a polite way and left.

**One Month Later, May 2, 2008**

"You takin' Sammy to his speech and occupational therapy today?" Dean asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Yeah, and then I thought I'd take him out to lunch and maybe take in a movie. I figure a little father son day on his birthday wouldn't be too much for him."

"Yeah, he'll like that. And, Dad," Dean began. "Don't forget to make sure that Dr. Borsody talked to Dr, Myers to tell her Sam still hasn't been cleared for returning to PT."

"Yeah, I'll take care of it." John and Dean had both taken Sam to another follow-up appointment and Dr. Borsody said Sam would need a little extra time to recoup. So, they had maintained with the day nurse, Pam, but today was Thursday and that meant John was off, so they didn't use Pam on days one of them could be with Sam. "You getting' off early today?"

"Yeah, of course, I told Larry two weeks ago that it was Sammy's twenty-fifth birthday. Dad, I'm not sure he's going to be up for a family dinner out," Dean hedged. John nodded. It was truth. Sam was still recovering and he headed to bed earlier than the rest of his family.

"Yeah, I was thinking of having Chinese delivered from the _China Palace_, sound good?"

"Oh yeah, and get some of that fried Rangoon," Dean was all ready salivating.

"You want your usual?" Dean nodded as he took a drink of coffee.

"General Tso's, right?"

"Yep. Well, I better go. Oh, hey, I stopped by the pharmacy yesterday on the way home from work and picked up a refill of Sammy's seizure meds," Dean pointed to the cabinet nearest the fridge. "I put the prescription bags in there. I think he had a couple days worth still in the bathroom medicine cabinet, but I'm not sure. I just didn't get a chance to put them in the bathroom for Sam."

"Got it," John answered with a smile.

"Guess, I better go" Dean replied looking at his watch. "Business has been booming since Larry took an account to service a local rental car company's vehicles when they are returned from customers."

"So, you have a heavy docket today son?"

"Yeah, one transmission rebuild I've been working on, a brake job, and Larry gave me four rental cars that all need an oil change, and chassis lubes. And, one of them needs new break pads. And, then I have at least two oil leak repairs on two customer's cars." Dean sighed. "The list goes on and on, but hey, the money's good," Dean commented with a wry smile.

"Just don't work yourself into the ground son. Life's too short."

"I know. It's not so bad, Dad. Like I keep saying I get a three day weekend, so I get some R&R. I'm good."

**Later that Afternoon**

John picked Sam up from Ivy Ridge and as his son climbed in the car he surveyed his son. "You okay, Sammy?"

"Yeah, jjj…just hate not hhh…having PT."

"I know you feel like you're falling behind in your therapy Sammy, but you were really sick and you need to let your body heal first. At least you're back to speech and OT." John offered with a warm and reassuring smile. "Hey kiddo, I was thinkin' you and your old dad could grab some lunch and a movie for your birthday." Sam smiled at the incredibly normal sounding activity.

"Okay," he answered with a lopsided smile.

"You feel up to it?" John asked looking Sam in the eyes. "I don't want you pushing yourself if you're tired. You've had a full day."

"It's only nnn…noon dad," Sam commented. "Sss…short day with no PT."

"Well, any ideas on what movie you want to see?" John asked. "I figure we'll eat afterward." John headed back toward Jefferson City and to the Riverside Galleria Mall and Entertainment Complex.

"We'll ppp…pick the mmm…movie when we get there." Sam answered.

"Fair enough," John replied.

John sat watching the movie flicker across the screen. The action movie had been running a little over an hour, and he and Sam practically had the theater all to themselves in the early afternoon on a Thursday. John always in hunter mode whether he looked like it or not had all ready counted six people sitting either together or alone in various spots in the theater. He knew where they were and if they got up during the movie. He sat on the aisle with Sam on the inside seat. John glanced over at his young son. Sam had nodded off about twenty minutes ago, and slept soundly leaned back in the large rocking theater seat. John smiled and let his son continue to slumber. There was a particularly loud gun fire and explosion scene and John cast a worried glance over to Sam not wanting him to startle awake, but all his son did was move slightly and turned inward toward his father.

**An Hour Later**

"Hey kiddo," John spoke softly as he placed a warm hand on Sam's cheek. "Sammy, it's time to wake up." Sam scrunched his face and opened his eyes. He sat up and looked around the theater. The end credits were still rolling and loud music blared from the Dolby sound surround system. He suddenly looked crestfallen as he realized what he had done.

"I fff…fell asleep," he complained. "Dad, you sss…should hhh…have woke me up." John smiled.

"You obviously needed the sleep Sammy, so I let you sleep. Anyway, you didn't miss anything. Guy blows up things, guy rescues girl, guy shoots guns, guy walks into the sunset … you've seen once action movie you've basically seen them all." Sam rolled his eyes completely irritated with himself. "Well, sport, I think we're gonna pass on lunch out. I'm going to take you home. I'll make you a grilled cheese and some tomato soup, how's that sound? And tonight we're ordering Chinese, okay?"

"Okay," Sam relented. John offered his son a hand up, and Sam took it. "Happy Birthday Sammy," John replied lightly as he pulled Sam up to his feet from his seated position.

"Thh…thanks dad."

"Twenty-five Sammy, you're a regular senior citizen, huh?" Sam gave his father a light swat across the stomach with his arm. "Oof," he grunted with the barely detectable impact. Sam smiled.

**The Winchester House, Late Afternoon**

Dean pulled into the garage and walked into the kitchen with a cake box and a bag from Barnes and Nobles. He looked around the kitchen eyeing the doorway from the family room. John walked into the kitchen. "Where's Sammy?" Dean whispered. "I don't want him to see the cake."

"He's in his room. How'd it turn out?" John asked as he tried to look at the cake through the cellophane window on the top. John chuckled when he saw it. "Did they think you were nuts at the bakery?" Dean laughed.

"Hey," Dean admonished. "I had to go to three bakeries before I found one that had a Ghostbusters template available to do a cake. It's not like I was gonna tell them to do little pink roses on it." Dean slid the cake box onto the counter. "He asleep?"

"Yeah, for about an hour now," John answered.

"Is he okay?"

"Oh, yeah, he's fine."

"How was the movie and lunch? Did he have fun?"

"Well, he seemed to be enjoying himself the first forty minutes of the movie and then he slept through the rest of it. I'm thinking his speech and OT may be too much for him right now. I think he may need to take a break or cut back on some library days or rehab. He was wiped out. We didn't even go to lunch out. I just brought him home made him a sandwich and some soup, and he zonked out."

"Well, we'll let him sleep and wake him up in a bit. We can order the Chinese around six and he'll probably last until 9 or 10 before he's down for the count. Man, I'll be glad when he's back to a hundred percent," Dean paused with a slightly haunted look. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah," John answered gruffly. "Me too, kiddo."

"I need a shower. I feel like I have the dirt of every car in the state of Missouri on me," Dean mused. "If he wakes up hide the cake. I want it to be a surprise." John chuckled.

"Yes, sir," John mused. Dean looked at his father and gave him an impish grin. John watched Dean make his way to the bathroom to clean up. His oldest son had been excited that this was the first birthday they had celebrated as a complete family in years, and the Winchester's when they did celebrate had usually considered a cup cake or a warm meal good enough. But, this year they were a family again, and this birthday Sam almost hadn't lived to see. A shiver worked its way through John at the thought. When he let his mind think back to a mere couple months ago his body felt cold at the thought that if Sam had succumbed to the infection and they had lost him his mind revolted at the mental picture of his son in a coffin and watching the lid close, and subsequently watch his baby boy lowered into the cold, dark earth, his precious light lost to him and Dean forever. John shook his head and took a breath; Sammy was safe, home, and healing.

**Two Months Later, July 2008**

The Winchester house had fallen back into its regular routine. Sam had been able to return to the library. And, he had gone back to his full rehab schedule. He knew his rehab had fallen behind during his recovery time, but he was working hard to catch up to where the center had set tentative goals for him to reach. Sam finished at the library, but it was pouring rain and he had walked to work from the house, and now he was trying to wait out the downpour. He had been let off work an hour earlier than usual, and sat in the breezeway of the entrance to the library and leafed through pamphlets that adorned the wall to kill time while he waited for the rain to stop. He spotted a pile of thick mini looking newspapers and picked up one: _Jefferson Community College: Fall Semester 2008 Schedule of Classes …register early._ He found himself mulling through the classes and then an idea sparked that maybe he could take a class or two. He noticed the rain had let up, and he folded the paper under his arm and headed toward home.

He pulled the mail out of the mailbox by the front door and slid the key into the lock. Sam lowered his backpack off his shoulder and dropped it on the floor to look at the mail. He leafed through the mail and noticed a large white envelope with Dean's name on it, but he noticed his name was right under his brother's:

_Dean Winchester_

_Samuel Winchester_

_2440 Willow Bend Ave._

_Jefferson City, MO_

He glanced at the return address and frowned: _State of Missouri Department of Special Services: Jefferson City Division_. "Sss…special sss…ser…vices," Sam struggled with the 'S's' as usual. He put the other mail down and opened the envelope. There was an insurance coverage card in Sam's name for the state of Missouri clipped to some official looking papers and a letter. He stared at the papers, but it was the letter he read and felt hot tears sting his eyes:

_July 9, 2008_

_Dear Mr. Dean Winchester:_

_RE: Dependant adult: Samuel Winchester_

_Please, find enclosed the medical coverage card to be used for future hospital and/or medical care services rendered to Samuel Winchester. Also, enclosed are coverage papers for your files, and should there ever be any questions, please don't hesitate to call. The state has reviewed your brother's special needs status along with the recommendations of his rehab social worker Lena Salvino, LSW. And, it has been determined that Samuel Winchester qualifies for full state coverage under the special needs act for physically and mentally disabled adult persons. And, enclosed, please find a final bill disposition from Capitol Region Medical Center for your brother's care during the time period of March 2008 to his discharge on April 5, 2008. The remaining balance was paid in full, and should you receive any further bills from said hospital for Samuel Winchester, please report them to the department of Special Services. Furthermore, the home health care nurse and infusion therapy were allotted by this department and services rendered have been paid._

_Should you need any local assistance or have questions, please contact your local representative assigned to your brother's case: Celia Mackey, LSW. (417) 555-2187, EXT. # 461. _

_Yours truly,_

_Celia Mackey, LSW_

_State of Missouri's Department of Special Services_

_Jefferson City Division_

Hot tears cascaded down Sam's cheeks. He understood the words in the letter, but the wording was confusing to him for the most part. But, he understood what the letter was saying, and the letter shook in his hands. _Samuel Winchester qualifies for full state coverage under the special needs act for physically and mentally disabled adult persons_, the sentence shined like a beacon to Sam, and finally the crushing reality engulfed him completely. He had felt different and knew quite well that people saw him differently, but now it was harsh, and accosted him violently. He dropped the letter on the small table by the front door where they always put the mail. He walked away blindly his vision occluded by tears. He felt a sob growing inside his chest and struggled to reach the safe cocoon of his room before he let it out.

Sam crawled into his bed lying down on his side drawing his knees up to his chest and began rocking himself. The sobbing came in hiccupping gasps as his body shook with the emotional onslaught. His grief for everything he had lost was all consuming, and then he felt the familiar tingle start at his finger tips, and some part of his brain registering the progression up his arm was privately wishing it would crescendo and take him into oblivion where he could slip into an eternal darkness. The Jacksonian seizure spread beyond his arm to his left side of his body it lasted only minutes and was over. Sam cried the entire time, and when the shaking slowed and finally stopped he punched his pillow in rage that the one time he wanted darkness to claim him it had stayed away. He pulled his knees back up and continued to cry in wrenching sobs.

John pulled his truck into the driveway and got out. He opted to go through the front door today. Work hadn't been too bad, and he was looking forward to his day off tomorrow. He looked in the mailbox and smiled knowing Sammy had all ready taken it inside when he came home from the library. John walked in and kicked something by the door. He looked down and saw that Sam had left his backpack by the door and a discarded newspaper looking paper lay to the side. He picked it up and looked at it. _Jefferson Community College_ he said the words in his head. He noticed the mail on the table where he stood and a letter left lying open with a small card attached. He noticed quickly that it was the state insurance card for Sam. He took only a moment to look at the letter skimming for key points, and then that's when he heard the muffled cry's coming down the hallway. He strode quickly to Sam's room. The door was left askew, so he walked in. Sam's back was to the door and he was lying in a tight ball with his face turned into his pillow.

"Sammy?" John's voice was soft as he spoke trying not to startle his son. He walked over and sat down on the bed. Sam continued to cry and John watched his young shoulders hitch up and down as the tears continued to come. John simply reached out a hand and placed it on his son's back and rubbed comforting circles. He was quiet for a long moment, and finally spoke. "Sammy? Son, please, let me see your face." Sam shook his head in his pillow and refused to look at his father. "Sam that letter," John began tentatively.

"Nnn…no," Sam stuttered and hiccupped as the tears refused to stop. "No talk."

"Sammy that letters is just a bunch of words son. It's not who you are … not to me … and not to your brother."

"Thh…they sss…say I'm a tard," Sam took his face out of the pillow, but still wouldn't turn to face his father. John continued to rub comforting circles on his son's back.

"Sam," John's voice warned. "You are not retarded, do you here me? And, they didn't say that."

"Call me sss…spec…ial nnn…needs. They say men…tally dis…abled."

"They're just words Sammy. I told you it's not who you are … not to me or your brother." Sam turned and looked at his father. John's heart broke at the agonized look in his son's dark eyes. His face was flushed from the sobbing and tracks of dried tears crisscrossed with fresh ones. John reached down and cupped the sides of his baby boy's face with both hands and pushed the tears away on each cheek with broad thumbs. "Shh, Sammy…" he soothed. Sam's bottom lip quivered.

"Ddd…don't want ttt…to be dumb," he managed before his face crumbled again. He didn't care that he was crying in front of his father. This pain was too much to push down and hide.

"Sammy, listen to me," John asserted gently. "You're not dumb. Never dumb. You're brilliant, do you hear me. You're a smart boy, and you always have been." Sam shook his head and tried to turn away, but John held his shoulders preventing the action.

"Nnn…not any…more. Dumb now." Sam reached up and covered his face with a single hand as his tears cascaded silently down his cheeks. John ached to take his son's pain away. He felt at a loss until something in him took over and he became the father Sam needed right in this moment. He pulled Sam up against himself and held him against his chest. One hand holding his child's head firmly and protectively while the other hand pressed into Sam's back and rubbed in small circles.

"Shh… Sammy, I got ya son, I got ya. It's okay. Shh…" John's voice was soft as he tried to break through his child's pain and tears to make him realize he wasn't in this alone. He felt Sam reach up and cling to him, and he pulled him that much tighter into his protective and comforting embrace. "I got you," he assured.

**Two Hours Later**

Dean parked the car and walked into the kitchen. His Dad's truck was in the driveway, and he expected his father to be in the kitchen ordering pizza. It was pizza night on Wednesday and they always ordered delivery from the local Ma and Pop restaurant, _The Italian Kitchen_, but the house was quiet. Too quiet. He dropped his car keys in a tiny bowl by the kitchen door they threw their keys into for easy location. "Dad?" Dean questioned as he walked into the dim family room. The blinds were closed, but the late afternoon sun sifted into the room leaving streaks of light and shadow across the carpet.

"I'm here." John answered from his place on the couch. Dean turned and looked at his father. John sat on the couch as if he were in some waiting room waiting for bad news.

"Dad?" Dean couldn't gauge his father's demeanor and just studied him.

"We need to talk," John replied. "Sit down Dean," his father's request was soft, not demanding, but almost imploring.

"What is it? Are you okay?" Dean took an urgent step forward.

"I'm fine." John replied warmly. "Please, just sit." Dean complied and as he did so he looked around the room casually. He saw Sam's discarded backpack on the floor by the front door, and wondered where his brother was.

"Where's Sammy?" Dean asked casually. John looked at his oldest child and cleared his voice.

"In his room," John answered.

"So, what is it? I mean, you act like something's up," Dean inquired. "What do you want to talk about?" Dean noticed a white envelope and paperwork on the coffee table in front of him, but didn't really look at it because he was more interested in hearing what his father had to say. It seemed important. "Dad?" Dean spoke again when his father neglected to fill the silence with his own voice. "What do you want to talk about?"

John's voice was soft and gruff, "Sammy." Dean's eyes darted toward the quiet hallway and his little brother's partially closed door. Dean's eyes filled with panic as a cold fear and dread dug deeply into his chest.

"What! What is it? What's wrong?" He started to stand to go check on his brother, but his father leaning forward and putting a single hand in his knee stopped him. His mind was all ready creating horrible nightmare scenarios. His head filled with one lucid fear: _Please, god, no. Sammy had a seizure didn't he? I wasn't here. He was alone. I failed him. He's dead. Sammy's gone… gone, gone, gone…._ "Please," His voice choked as he looked at his father. "He's not…" he tried to speak, but the words cut off inside his throat.

John was wide-eyed as he realized with dreadful clarity that Dean was thinking they had lost Sam to some unfair twist of fate. "No, no," he assured quickly. "Dean, Sammy is alive. I promise." The fact his father had simply replied that his brother was alive and hadn't used words like _fine_ and _okay_ terrified Dean even more.

"What aren't you telling me?" John inclined his hand toward the letter and papers on the coffee table. Dean looked at them and picked up the paper clipped items. He saw the insurance card attached in Sam's name, and still it wasn't clicking, but something was tickling at the edge of his comprehension.

"He saw his name on the envelope under yours and he opened it," John replied as he watched Dean skim the letter the same as he had done two hours ago. Dean put the papers back down on the coffee table and leaned forward putting his face into his hands.

"Shit," he hissed through his hands. "All of it … he read all of it?"

"Yes," John answered quietly. Dean leaned back into the couch.

"How is he?"

"Not good," John answered bluntly. "He was pretty upset," he hesitated a moment. "He _is_ pretty upset," John corrected himself.

"I should talk to him," Dean leaned forward again.

"He's sleeping," John replied. "Cried himself to sleep. He's going to be out for a while. He's emotionally drained."

"Dad," Dean began. "I never wanted him to know … not like this. Dammit!"

"Look son, he'll bounce back. It may take a while, but when he understands what the state and a few bureaucrats in an office have labeled him … is just that a label he'll be okay. I told him it doesn't define him to us. Sam's strong and he'll come through the other side of this."

"Dad, thinking you're different and reading it in black and white are two different things. You know, Sammy, he's College Boy, and now he's seen his life and his potential distilled down to a letter that says: _Samuel Winchester qualifies for full state coverage under the special needs act for physically and mentally disabled adult persons_. Dad, he just sees that they think he's disabled in more than one way, and now his hope is gone."

"Dean," John began softly.

"No Dad," Dean asserted. "Sam always had hope whether he was saying it or not. I know he had hope and that was what drove him. The hope to regain his life back … all of it, and now he knows that medicine and government say he's disabled and they see him that way. And, I'll be damned if I let him see himself that way. It's not gonna happen, I won't let it. He needs to believe he can get back more than he already has. He needs _his _hope."

"Dean all we can do is support him and be there for him. We make sure he doesn't give up on rehab or himself." John paused for a moment. Dean leaned back into the couch again with a frustrated sigh. "You know," John started. "I noticed by his book bag he picked up a class schedule for the local community college." Dean looked at him.

"He did," Dean's voice sounded hopeful.

"Yeah, of course after today we may have to prod him, but I think it might be good if he wants to go."

"I can bring it up," Dean suggested. John shook his head.

"We should let your brother bring it up when he's ready. Follow his lead." Dean shook his head.

"No, Dad," Dean began. "Look don't take this the wrong way, but I know Sammy better than you and he's not gonna bounce back like a rubber band on this one. He blames himself for so much crap … he's going to find something to blame himself for now. Like he's some kind of burden or something. I need to talk to him. I'm not letting him lose faith in himself." John looked at his son oddly. "What?"

"Nothing," John said with a mild smile. "Since when do you talk about _faith_ I didn't think it was your thing."

"Yeah, well, things change. And, Sammy needs to believe in things. He needs to believe in himself and I'm going to make sure he keeps believing in himself. He told me once, that _sometimes you gotta have a little faith_, and he was right." John nodded.

**One Month Later, Late August 2008**

Sam was assigned an academic counselor at _Jefferson Community College_ and he enrolled for two classes starting in the Fall quarter to get his feet wet. Lena his social worker from Ivy Ridge had set his appointment up at the college and Sam had insisted he go alone when Dean and John had both offered to take him for the weekend registration days at the college. The past month had been very difficult for Sam. He had slipped into a state of melancholy and Dean and John had both been very proactive in handling it. They had spoken to his therapists at Ivy Ridge, Dr. Myers, and Lena. Sam felt compelled to escape the labels he'd been given. But, the real world seemed bound and determined to permanently affix them to him. Even now, he sat in the Office of Students with Disabilities with his assigned academic counselor.

He had found one aspect of his label he would use to his advantage, and if there was one thing he had learned from childhood was how to make the system work for you. The state provided educational funding for him, and he was happy that his family wouldn't have to pay for any classes he wanted to take.

"Sam, I think you may want to start with a lower division political analysis class than "Twenty-first Century Polycentric Norms in Today's society and Government," Mona, his counselor replied. "Maybe, Intro to Political analysis," she hedged.

"I hhh…have ttt…transfer cre…dits from Stan…fff…ford. It counts, rrr…right?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Bbb…but what?" Sam's voice was level, but slightly accusing.

"Professor Dasser is very hard. The course load in that class is particularly heavy Sam. There is an presentation and a final paper."

"I rrr…read the class des…crip…tion," Sam replied. "I knn…know what is ex…pec…ted. I went ttt…to Stan…fff…ford."

"Yes," Mona relented, "but that was before your accident correct? I just don't want you to over extend yourself Sam. I believe you can complete your work … I just don't want you getting discouraged and withdrawing from your classes. It's common and I see it all the time."

"I www…want thh…that class," Sam asserted. Mona smiled.

"I'll have to get Professor Dasser to sign off since it's an upper level and you're coming in with transfer credit. Why don't you go out to the lobby and take a seat and I'll try to get a hold of him and I'll call you back in okay?" Sam nodded. Mona watched Sam leave. She really liked him and truly felt he was biting off more than he could chew, and didn't want him devastated when at mid-term or before he found himself drowning and facing certain failure and imminent withdraw from the class or perhaps the college all together. She had seen it too many times. But, at least Sam was starting off slow as opposed to other disabled students she hadn't been able to talk out of a full course load right off the bat. She had been provided a copy of his file and was made aware of his ongoing rehab from his social worker, and she read in his file of the devastating brain trauma he'd received as a direct complication of a head injury received in a car accident with his family over a year ago.

"Hello, Professor Dassler. This is Mona Radney." The professor recognized the woman.

"Hi Mona, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a student who wants to sign up for your Advanced Political Analysis. He has the approved transfer credits."

"This is one of your students Mona?" The professor was well aware that all of her students had some type of disability.

"Yes, he's a wonderful young man. His transcripts are from Stanford. He suffered an accident a year ago, but has been working very hard at getting his life back, and he wants to try a couple classes, and possibly get back into academia."

"Stanford? I trust this accident occurred prior to his admittance to that university."

"Yes," Mona replied. "He was there on a full ride scholarship. I tried to dissuade him from taking the advanced class, but he wouldn't hear of it. He wants to take it."

"What is his disability?"

"He suffered a traumatic brain injury. He has a speech deficit and some cognitive delays. He's a bright boy. I can see it in his eyes, but…"

"But, you think he's going to sink and drown in my class, right?"

"I just don't want him to fail right out of the starting gate."

"Let's see what he's capable off. I'm sure that kid has had enough short ends of the stick to last him a lifetime and I'm not going to be the one to shoot him down. If he thinks he can handle it then I'll grant him entrance into the class."

**Later that Afternoon**

Sam had to do two bus transfers to get home, but he made it. He had gone over the schedules with Dena his OT at Ivy Ridge and Dean and John had gone over it with him to. He felt happy that he'd been admitted into the advanced class he wanted. Classes started in three weeks, and he was excited. The library was willing to work around his schooling, and he was glad for that because he enjoyed his occupational placement there. He knew at the beginning of the new year though that Lena would have a new placement for him. She had told him it was good to broaden your horizons and try new places.

"Hey Sammy," Dean replied from the couch with a beer. "How was your school thing?"

"Good I got the ccc…classes I wan…ted." Dean smiled and flipped the TV off.

"Dad ran up to the _Rusty Bucket Sub House_ and we're having some subs for lunch. He's getting your usual." Dean turned his nose up. "That frou-frou stuff you like … with the bean sprouts."

"It's good." Sam replied.

"Yeah, what ever you say kiddo," Dean quipped. "So, did they give you any trouble signing up for the classes you wanted?"

"I thh…think my coun…selor thh…thinks I might have ttt…trouble with one."

"Oh, yeah," Dean replied standing up and heading toward the kitchen. "Well, that counselor doesn't know shit. Guy or girl?" Sam looked at his brother oddly. "Your counselor … guy or girl?"

"Www…woman," Sam answered. "Www…why?"

"Oh, come on Sammy," Dean mused as they both entered the kitchen. "You just have to use those puppy eyes of yours and she'll do whatever you want." Sam swatted his brother in the shoulder and sat down at the kitchen table. "What? It's true," Dean countered. "But, really, Sammy … I'm happy to see you trying school again. I know it's not Stanford, but…"

"It's okay, Dean," Sam replied. "I jjj…just www…want to ttt…try."

"Hey, Sammy I don't want you being hard on yourself all right? I know you … you're a geek boy when it comes to school stuff, and if something doesn't come easy or whatever I don't want you getting discouraged, okay?" Sam nodded slightly. "Yeah, no nodding little brother. I want to hear you say, 'okay.'"

"Okay."

"And, you know you can use tutors if you have to Sam. I don't want you stressing out on stuff."

"It's ttt…two ccc…classes Dean." Sam complained. "It's nnn…not even fff…for a degree. I jjj..just want ttt…to ttt…try." Sam was so frustrated about his speech. He worked on it all the time and even did flashcards at home to practice pronunciations, but some words still hopped and skipped off his tongue, and it seemed no matter what he did they stutter and fragmentation still remained.

"So, what classes are you taking?" Sam pulled his registration paper out of his backpack and handed it to his brother. "Okay, are you serious Sammy? What the hell is Political Science 490: _Twenty-first Century Polycentric Norms in Today's society and Government_? That's a class?" Dean shot a look at his brother. Sam nodded. Dean looked at the other class and smiled. "Psy: 320 _Myth and Urban Legends: A study in Human Nature_, I think you could teach this class Sammy. Hell, you probably no more than the professor." Sam and Dean shared a smile. "So, Sam, that other class, the Polycentric whatever, you sure you want to take that? Sounds like a ball buster."

Sam shook his head. "I www…want to," he asserted. Dean raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Okay, okay, just askin'. Man, I'm hungry. I can't wait to sink my teeth into that Philly steak and cheese Sub. Mmm… with extra onions." Sam turned his nose up. "Hey, don't knock it Organic Boy." Dean laughed. "Dad, wanted a Philly, but you know the old diet for his ticker says no can do, man, so he was a little pissed. I think he's getting a turkey club or something."

"It's ggg…good thh…that dad is kkk…keep…ing with thh..the heart rehab diet."

"Yeah. I just like to give him a hard time. To tell you the truth Sammy I'm surprised he hasn't told those nutritionists he has to see once a month to stick it where the sun doesn't shine." Sam laughed.

"Ggg…give hhh…him time," Sam countered. Both brothers heard the rumble of their father's truck as it pulled into the driveway.

**Jefferson Community College, October 15, 2008**

Sam walked across the quad of the college having just finished his one hour tutor session for his political class he was taking from Professor Dassler. It was hard and he had to read the material multiple times to understand it, and he had begrudgingly acknowledged early on that he would need a tutor that could help him break down pieces of the textbook, so he could understand the material. He hated that certain things just didn't make sense when he knew that at one time before his head injury they had made perfect sense, and at times the theories he had read about seemed almost juvenile, but now some of them came across so difficult to him that he likened them translating an ancient language. He had almost dropped the class, but his big brother and his father gave him a confidence booster, and said they knew he could do it. And, when they had said, _as long as you do your best and try, then no one can ask anymore_ he decided to stick with it. He was on the way to the library on campus to make some copies he needed when his cell phone rang.

It was always one of two people that called either his brother or his father, and usually he didn't even bother with glancing at the caller ID, but today he did look and when he saw the illuminated screen of his phone Sam stopped dead in his tracks staring at the display, as his mouth went dry:

Incoming call:

Sarah Blake

315-555-2380

**To Be Continued**

**Well, as always let me know what you think. Sorry, for the minor delay, but getting two chapters out and posted last week sort of put me behind with other things, but at least you have a new update for the weekend.**

**Thank you for all the reviews you've left for chapters 1 through 22, so far. It's much appreciated.**

**Read and Review!**


	24. Not Enough

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **After careful thought and consideration I have decided to stick with the original planned arc for this story which doesn't mean anything bad, it just means that there is an end in sight for this story. There are still a handful of chapters planned before this will be complete. Of course, I know this will disappoint some readers, but look on the bright side because this means once the story is finally done it will allow me to write some more SN stories when the urge strikes.

Thank you to every reader that takes the time to leave your thoughts and comments after a chapter. I appreciate it.

**Chapter Twenty-four**

**Not Enough**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_there's nothing to lose, 'cause it's already lost…"_ Excerpt by Kansas, _Fight Fire with Fire_

"Come on Sammy answer your damn phone," Dean hissed as he paced in the kitchen.

"Dean relax," John urged his son. "He just a little late."

"A little dad? Try two hours. You're not worried?"

"I didn't say that, but …"

"But? But what? Look he's not picking up. I keep getting his damn voice mail."

"He said he was going to the library after class and his tutor session," John offered.

"Yeah, to make copies. That doesn't take two hours, and it for damn sure doesn't explain why he isn't picking up his phone."

"Dean," John's voice was soft.

"No," Dean interrupted. "I'm going to campus to look for him." His father looked at him. "What? You got a better idea?"

"No," John replied. "Fine, go look for him. I'll stay here in case he calls." Dean nodded as he grabbed his keys and headed to his car.

**Jefferson Community College Quad**

Dean entered the library and went to the desk. There was a young student worker on duty. "Can I help you?" she smiled at Dean. He didn't have time for a flirty girl.

"Yeah, I hope so," he began. "Um, I'm lookin' for my brother. He might have been in here earlier … tall, shaggy brown hair, tan jacket and a backpack." Dean looked at her with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, I think earlier, I was checking some books out for a person, but yeah I think I might have seen someone like that."

"Great, did you happen to see him leave?" She thought for a moment.

"No, I usually look up because the security turn style leaving always beeps as a student passes through it to exit. Ugh, I think he went that way toward the private study rooms, but I don't remember seeing him again. But, I'm not even sure it was your brother."

"No, thanks really," Dean offered her a quick smile. "Thanks. The study rooms are they that way?" He pointed in their general direction.

"Yeah, just go back and to the right. The rooms have private cubicles and are sound proof. It's mostly quiet on Wednesday evenings, so they should be pretty empty."

"Thanks."

"Sure thing. Good luck." Dean nodded and went in search of Sam. His big brother radar had been on high alert ever since his brother was late. He knew Sammy would have caught the 6:00 PM bus to meet his transfer bus, and when Sam hadn't arrived home he had immediately called his little brother's cell phone and when he didn't answer that's when the concern had edged into panic. Dean walked with purpose toward the study area. He walked past a few glass cubicles and finally noticed the chestnut mop of hair he knew so well peeking up from behind a privacy partition in the very last study cubicle. Sam's head was bowed in his hands. Dean opened the door and Sam's head remained down.

"Sammy?" he asked quietly.

"Sss…sorry, I ddd…didn't call," he stammered still keeping his head down. Dean heard the wet sound behind his brother's words and knew his brother had been crying at some point.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean's said as he walked over to his brother and kneeled down beside him. "You're not an easy fellow to track down kiddo," he offered lightly trying to make his brother look up at him. "I had to play Perry Mason with the library chick up front. I tried to call," he offered.

"Ttt…turn off cell phh…phones in thh…the library. It's a rrr…rule." Dean smiled despite the obvious emotional state if his brother. Even upset his little brother followed the rules.

"Sammy?" Dean rested his hand on top of his brother's unruly mop of hair. "You wanna tell me what's going on?" Dean lifted his hand and reached for a spare chair and pulled it over to sit next to his brother. Sam shook his head. "Come on, Sam, I can't help you if I don't know what the problem is," Dean replied lightly. Sam remained silent.

"Did you have trouble with class today or your tutor?" Dean decided if Sam wasn't going to talk he'd try trouble shooting with question prompts.

"Nnn…no," Sam answered.

"Come on Sammy, cut your big brother a break here. You had me worried sick. Dad's at home sitting by the phone in case you call or come home while I'm out looking for you." Sam reluctantly raised his face from his hands and looked at his older brother. Dean looked at Sam's flushed face and bloodshot eyes that still bore the glassy remnants of tears long ago spent. "Sammy," Dean cooed softly. "What is it kiddo?"

"Phh…phone call…" Sam began and stopped.

"Huh? Phone call? You call someone?" Sam shook his head. "Okay, did someone call you?" Sam nodded. "What about?"

"Sss…Sar…ah," Sam replied with a haunted look. Dean's mind was reeling. _Oh Christ_, his mind spat. _Please, let her be okay. If something happened to her … if the Demon…_Dean's mind raged. He spoke calmly to his brother.

"Is Sarah okay?" Sam shrugged. _Okay, that's not the response I was expecting_, Dean thought. "Sammy was it Sarah that called you?" Sam scooted his phone over to him and turned it on. Dean pulled up the missed calls and back tracked through the eleven missed calls from him earlier, and then there it was: Sarah Blake. "Did you talk to her?" Sam shook his head vehemently. "What? Why not?"

"Www…what www…would I sss…say? I ccc…can't even sss…say her name without sss…sounding like …"

"Without sounding like what Sammy?" Dean's tone was warning. He hated when his kid brother bad mouthed himself.

"Sss..stu…pid," Sam offered as he let his eyes drop down to stare at his folded and fidgeting hands. "Shh…she nnn…not know." Sam's speech was fragmenting and Dean reached out a hand and placed it comfortingly on his little brother's shoulder.

"Easy Sammy," he encouraged. "It's okay. You're okay."

Sam turned agonized eyes to his older brother. "Nnn…no nnn…not okay. Shh…she not know. Ccc…can't ttt…talk right," Sam's words fragmented and rushed on top of each other.

"Hey, hey kiddo," Dean soothed. "Calm down Sammy. It's okay. We'll work this out." Sam shook his head.

"Work whh…what out?" He hissed. "Ccc…can't fff…fix me."

"Sam," Dean's tone dropped a little as he studied his brother. "There isn't anything to fix Sammy." Dean asserted. "You're not broke."

"I am and yyy…you knn…know it. Hhh…head mmm…messed up. Was smm…smart now sss…stupid," his words rushed forward. Dean sighed and looked hard at his brother.

"Sam look at me," Dean commanded when his little brother dropped his eyes. "Look at me." Sam raised his eyes hesitantly and met his brothers. "Now listen to me and get this through that damn thick stubborn head of yours … I never want to fucking hear you call yourself stupid again. Do you understand?" Sam didn't respond. "I'm not screwing around here Sammy I mean it. You're not stupid and you've never been. So, I'll say it again, and you know how much I hate to repeat myself … you are never to call yourself stupid or anything remotely negative again … am I understood?"

"Yes," Sam answered quietly.

"Good," Dean softened his voice as he replied. He reached up and ruffled his brother's hair affectionately. Sam ducked his head away with a small sheepish smile. It might not have been the coveted Sam Winchester lopsided dimpled grin, but it was better than nothing Dean thought. "So, did she leave a message?" Dean asked suddenly. Sam looked at his brother.

"Yeah." Sam nudged his phone. "Yyy..you ccc…can listen."

"You sure?" Sam nodded. Dean picked up the phone and scrolled to the voice mail and selected Sarah's message:

_Hi, Sam, it's Sarah. I know… long time no talk. I just wanted to see how you and your brother are doing. I thought I might have heard from you by now, so I guess I was a little worried. I wanted to make sure you hadn't run across one too many angry Casper's_, she laughed lightly into the phone. _I think about you and just wanted to say hi and touch base. Well, you have my number, and I'd love to hear from you. I hope you and Dean are okay. Tell him I said Hi. Take care of yourself. Bye._

The message finished and Dean handed the phone back to his brother. "Sammy…"

"Ddd…don't," Sam barked. "Nnn…nothing ttt…to sss…say. I ccc…can't ttt…talk ttt..to Sss…Sarah … Dammit!" He hated how bad his words were stuttering.

"Sam just relax, okay? You know damn well that the more worked up you get the worse it gets, and…" Dean looked at his watch. "And, you're just about due for your evening dose of your meds. I don't want you bringing on a seizure." Sam just looked at his brother and said nothing. "Look, I better call Dad before he has a stroke or something." Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket and selected 'home' on his cell phone. He smiled inwardly at that simple word, 'home' and despite everything that has happened over the last year he had his family, he had a home. "Dad?" Dean heard his father's voice after the first ring.

"Dean? Did you find him?" John wasn't trying to keep the concern out of his voice.

"Yeah, Dad. He's okay."

"Thank God," John let out a sigh over the phone, and then went into angry father mode. "Where the hell was he?"

"Long story dad. I'm bringing him home."

"Long story? You're sure he's okay?"

"Dad," Dean softly chided. "You can see for yourself when I get Sammy home. He's okay. He's safe." John relaxed. To him 'safe' meant that he wasn't hurt or in danger.

"Okay, I'll see both you boys when you get home." There was that word again, 'home' and Dean's mouth quirked ever so slightly.

"Okay, Dad. Bye." Dean closed his phone and looked at his crestfallen brother. "Okay, kiddo. Papa Bear is climbing the walls back at the house, so we better get going." Dean stood up and pushed his chair against the wall with his foot. "Come on, Sammy," he picked up his brother's backpack and handed it to him when he stood up. Sam took the pack.

"Thh…thanks," Sam said quietly. "Sss…sorry I ddd…didn't call."

"Water under the bridge Sammy," Dean replied. "Come on, let's get you home."

**Later the Next Day**

Dean looked at the wall clock in the kitchen. He was off today, and Sam was at rehab. His brother hadn't mentioned Sarah again, but Dean felt like he needed to do something. He scrolled though his own phone knowing full well he had her number. His father was out running errands and it was the perfect time to call. He selected her name and pushed send.

"Hello?"

"Sarah? It's Dean."

"Dean! Hey, how are you?"

"I'm good, and you?"

"I'm fine. You know I called Sam's cell phone yesterday, but I had to leave a voice mail."

"Yeah, I know," Dean began. "That's why I'm calling." Sarah felt her stomach drop to the floor and a feeling of cold dread filled her.

"Dean? Just tell me he's okay. Tell me Sam's all right. He's not hurt is he?" Her pleas came so quickly that they left Dean speechless for a moment and that only added to her fear. "Please, Dean…"

"Sam's okay, Sarah, but…"

"But, what. Dammit Dean, what's wrong? Why isn't Sam the one that's calling?"

"It's hard for him Sarah," Dean began. "A lot has happened."

"Hard for him? Hard how? What's wrong?"

Dean figured he might as well jump right into explanations. "Look Sarah a year ago we were in a car wreck and Sam hit his head. There were complications and …"

"Oh my God," Sarah's voice caught her throat. "Dean?" Her voice was soft and pleading.

"He had to have brain surgery and was in a coma for a while. He suffered brain damage from it," Dean's voice was steady. "But, he's going to rehab and he's getting better every day," he added quickly.

"How bad is it Dean? The truth."

"He really is doing okay Sarah. He's even taking some classes at a local college here in Missouri. He has some speech problems and some other issues. He couldn't bring himself to answer his cell when you called. He wanted too I know he did, but it's just he was afraid."

"Afraid? Of what? Me?"

"Of your reaction." He replied quietly. "He stutters Sarah, and certain words are harder than others for him to say. He just was afraid of what you'd think."

Dean and Sarah talked for a long time, and he filled her in on things about Sam and that they had found their father and were living in Jefferson City, Missouri. She asked questions about his head injury and rehab and Dean answered them. He told her about the seizure disorder and he told her about the bout of endocarditis that had almost killed him. "I need to see him Dean," Sarah spoke suddenly.

"Uh, Sarah, I don't know if that's something he's up to right now."

"Dean, please. I need to see him with my own eyes."

"You know he's gonna be pretty pissed at me for even calling you, and then to tell him you want to come to Jefferson City to see him. I don't know," Dean hedged.

"Make it happen Dean. Look if he's uncomfortable talking to me on the phone tell him we'll talk in person. Please…"

"No promises," he replied. "I'll talk to him, but I'm not going to force the issue with him, okay? It's not good for him to get stressed out."

"I understand," Sarah lamented.

**Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

Dean parked the car and went inside. He was early for picking up Sam, but he wanted to talk to Sam as soon as possible. And he thought they could take a walk to the duck pond the center had on its premises that they used to walk to when Sam was still living at Ivy Ridge. He walked in and saw Carrie at the front desk. She waved at him and he returned her wave. He headed for the gym knowing that Sam was in PT for another few minutes. He poked his head inside and could see it was a busy day. The various machines were almost all occupied with a rehab patient and the mats were full too. Dean spotted Sam and Mel in the far corner near a window and he could tell that Mel was stretching out Sam's leg muscles as Sam provided some mild resistance. Dean knew they had finished and Mel was just making sure Sam had a proper muscle cool down before sending him home. Mel spotted Dean and smiled. He saw him say something to his brother, but he was too far away still to hear, and then he saw Sam twist his head and look over and smile. He waved and started to sit up.

"Hey Mel," Dean greeted. "How ya doin' it's been a while."

"Yes, it has. I'm good. And you?"

"No complaints," he replied. "So, did Sammy put you through your paces today or was he a slacker?"

"Nah, your brother is a hard worker." Mel gave Sam a hand up.

"Yyy…you're ear…ly Dean," Sam commented.

"Yeah, I know."

"Sss…some…thing wrong?" Sam looked concerned.

"Huh? No, nothing. Just got here early."

"Okay," Sam commented lightly. He knew his brother though and knew there was something, and if he knew Dean like he was sure he did … his big brother would spit it out when he was ready, so he let it drop. "Thh…thanks Mel," Sam looked at the older man. "I'll sss…see you nnn…next week, okay?"

"Sure, thing sport." Mel answered.

They said their goodbyes and Sam walked with Dean toward the lobby of the rehab center. They reached the outside and Dean stopped. "I thought we could take a walk down to the pond like we used too." Sam looked at his brother and smirked. "What?"

"Nnn…nothing," Sam replied. He knew whatever his brother had on his mind was about to come out. "Sss…sure let's ggg…go," Sam quipped. Dean offered a nervous smile and fell into step beside his little brother.

Dean and Sam followed the concrete walking paths that went to the pond and they took a seat by the water on a bench. "Sammy," Dean began. His stomach was tight with nerves. "Um, I don't want you to get pissed with me, but I guess I can't blame you if you are after I tell you something." Sam looked hard at his brother.

"Whh…what ddd…did you dd…do?"

"I called Sarah."

"Dean!" Sam shouted. Dean flinched at his name.

"Look Sammy, I had to okay. You weren't going to call her back and I thought you'd at least want her to know the reason you weren't calling her back wasn't because you're dead or something."

"I www…was ggg…going ttt…to email hhh…her." Sam let out a frustrated sigh that sounded more like an angry hiss. "Ccc..can't ttt…talk dammit!" He stood up suddenly and walked toward the water to just stare at it. Dean stayed seated, but watched his brother closely. Sam took another couple steps toward the edge of the pond. Dean involuntarily tensed.

"That's close enough Sammy," he said standing up, but remained by the bench. "I don't need you falling in there." Sam spun around and glared at his big brother.

"I ccc…can swim!" he retorted. "Whh…what's yyy…your damn ppp…prob…lem?"

"You getting all worked up and standing too close to the damn water," Dean replied hotly. "Yeah, you can swim, but you go and have a seizure and fall in … you'll swallow half the pond before I can drag you out." Sam turned away from his brother and looked back over the water.

"I ttt..take mmm…my mmm…meds," Sam turned and glared at his brother. "Lll…ike a ggg…good lll…little boy," he hissed in anger.

"Sammy, I just thought she should know. I know that was your call, but I just felt like I had to do something. Hey, she wants to come for a visit to see you with her own eyes. See her Sam." Dean watched his brother turn and face him again, but his little brother's face wasn't angry anymore just stricken, haunted.

"Sss…Sarah ddd…deserves bbb…better," Sam stuttered. "Nnn…not sss…safe www…with me. Thh…the ddd…demon."

"Hey," Dean admonished. "First, what's with this deserves better load of crap?" Dean chided. "There isn't a better catch than you," he mused with a smile and continued. "Well, with the exception of your older and much more handsome brother." Sam rolled his eyes, but Dean saw the hint of a smile despite his brother's distraught emotional state. "And, yeah, I get that you're worried about her safety Sammy, but maybe…"

"Nnn…no mmm…may…be," Sam barked. "Nnn…not sss…safe. Never sss…safe www…with me. Nnn…no one is." Sam walked back toward his brother and sat down heavily on the bench and Dean joined him. Sam stared out over the water and said nothing. The silence hung heavy between them both and Dean felt at a loss of what to say to his little brother.

"Sam," he began tentatively testing the waters with his sibling. Sam cast a sideways glance at his big brother, but said nothing. Dean pushed forward with his thought. "I know you worry … hell, I know you blame yourself for shit that you shouldn't be carrying around in your head. Mom and Jess weren't your fault, but no matter how many times I tell you that I know you don't believe me. I know what the demon said to you, I was there remember?" Sam held his brother's gaze for a long moment and looked away to stare at the ground. "And, I'm going to keep telling you it's not your fault 'til the day they put me in the ground and toss in the dirt. I'm not going to stop until you believe me. You didn't kill them, and that evil sonofabitch will get what's coming to him. But, it's that damn demon that killed Mom and Jessica. And, yeah, maybe you're right until that demon is dead or sent back to hell gift wrapped in a big red bow, maybe Sarah should stay away … one less thing for the demon to use against you, but she deserves to hear it from you Sammy. And, I think you need to do this." Dean looked at his little brother and wished in that moment that Sam was six again and he could comfort him like he did when they were small. It seemed so easy then and he was always able to make him feel safe, make him feel better. But, this wasn't a scraped knee or a bruised ego, and all he could think to do was reach over and cover his brother's hand with his own and give a light squeeze.

"Yyy… you're rrr…right about Sss…Sarah, I guess." Sam conceded with a small smile. "Bbb…but whh…what www…will sss…she thh…think about me? Diff…erent."

"Sam I told her about the accident and your head injury. She knows what to expect, and anyway it's not like you're drooling in a corner or something. You're still you."

"Easy fff…for you ttt…to say," Sam started. "Yyy…you're used ttt…to this now, bbb…but I knn…know in the begin…ning it www…was hard fff…for you I sss…saw it in your eyes." Sam looked at his brother. "I'm bbb…brain ddd…dam…aged not bbb…blind," Sam quipped. Dean looked at his brother as a smile crept at the edges of his mouth. His brother could choose the oddest moments to let his sense of humor come out. _Like Big Brother, like little brother_, he mused internally.

"You're not brain damaged," Dean replied insistently. He hated that label whether it was true or not he hated hearing it from his brother. Sam just gave him this look that said _sell that denial somewhere else_. "Well you're not," he reiterated again with an impassioned look in his eye. Sam shook his head lightly.

"Hey, I ddd…don't lll…like any…more than you, bbb…but it is whh…what it is," he conceded.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean's reply was a little more caustic sounding than he had intended. He softened his voice. "I don't want to hear you say it again though, alright?"

"I'm sss…scared Dean," Sam responded quietly. Dean looked at his brother and recalled the last time he could remember his brother saying that very sentence. And, his mind was taken back to the night Sam had had his first waking vision about Max's uncle dying from an unseen force snapping a window down on his neck. Sam had said he was scared then in the car. It had bothered Dean in that moment terribly, although he hadn't admitted it to his brother, and now over a year later, that short sentence still bothered him.

"Sammy it's gonna be okay. You're going to be okay." Sam turned glassy eyes to his brother and Dean's heart broke. He was already a sucker for his brother's puppy eyes, but when they were glassy with the threat of tears he almost couldn't handle it. He found himself closing the small gap between himself and his little brother as he scooted over, and without preamble or concern for the infamous chick flick moment he put his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him against himself, so that their sides were touching. "I'm here Sammy," was all Dean could think to say, but it was enough. Sam looked at his brother sheepishly and then rewarded Dean with a lopsided grin.

"Bbb…but what ddd…do I sss..say to Sss…Sarah? If shh…she ccc…comes …I …I…" Sam felt like his world, his safe cocoon with his family was finally being breached, and one of his biggest fears of facing someone that knew him before the head injury came back into his life. He felt the familiar tingle start in his fingers, "Ah, shh…shit," he hissed quietly.

"Sammy?" Dean detected a note of something in his brother's voice and looked at him hard. He saw it in Sam's eyes just as his brother's hand started to spasm on his left side. "Sam, here," Dean helped him sit on the ground afraid this could be a more severe Jacksonian seizure that traveled to the entire side of his body. Sam's arm began to spasm as his hand released and contracted into a fist.

"Shh…shit," Sam complained brokenly. Dean sat behind his brother on the ground supporting Sam low against his chest prepared to catch his head should the seizure travel beyond his arm.

"You're doing okay Sam," Dean encouraged. The seizure didn't go beyond his arm, and Dean was thankful. The jerking began to slow after a couple minutes into a dissipating tremor that worked its way back down Sam's arm to his now relaxed hand causing his fingers to twitch slightly and then it was over. Dean let out a sigh of relief as he allowed his head to drop down onto the top of his brother's head. "You good Sammy?" Sam nodded his head against his brother's chest, but didn't speak. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and hugged him close for a long moment and he felt his little brother relax into him.

**December 2008, Jefferson City, Missouri**

"You want me to go in with you? I could," Dean offered with a soft smile. Sam shook his head as his eyes shifted back toward the lobby doors to the large and imposing posh hotel Sarah had checked into. He found himself staring at the gold scripture lettering _Embassy Suites Hotel_ and looked at the doorman dressed in a red tailored jacket helping the bellboy with luggage carts. "You sure?" Dean asked again when it was obvious his kid brother still wasn't getting out of the Impala. Sam had arranged via email with Sarah for her to come visit when he was on holiday break from school and he had finished his placement at the library near his house and Lena had decided right now maybe another library would be the ticket for Sam. Sam was scheduled to start next week for a week of orientation to work in the new library. She had found him an occupational placement at the library on campus.

Sarah was only going to be in Jefferson for two days. He still hadn't been able to bring himself to talk to her on the phone, and had only communicated by email. "Sammy?"

"I ggg…got it," Sam answered as he put his hand on the door handle and pushed it to open the door. As the door opened a cold December wind blew into the car.

"What time you want me to get you?"

"I'll ccc…call." Sam's voice shook.

"Hey, kiddo don't get all stressed, okay? It's Sarah, man, you know her. She took the whole haunted painting and psycho little girl in her stride … this is nothing. It's okay." Dean tried to encourage. Sam offered a shaky smile that only confirmed to Dean how worked up his brother was over this meeting. "I could still go up, you know, break the ice or something … take the edge off."

"Nnn…no," Sam said quietly. "I'll ccc…call lll…later." He said as he got out of the car. Dean leaned forward over the seat.

"Hey Sammy?"

"Yyy…yeah?"

"You remember her room number, right?"

"Thh…three eighteen," he stammered.

"Yep," Dean confirmed. Sam closed the door and when he walked in front of the Impala he turned and met his brother's eyes behind the windshield. He gave his brother a small smile and a wave. Dean did the same. He watched his little brother disappear into the hotel and sighed. He was nervous for Sam. He shook his head to himself, "Damn I feel like I'm watching him go off to kindergarten for his first day of school all over again," he mused out loud to the empty car.

Sam stepped off the elevator and looked at the directional signs for various room numbers. He noticed that rooms 300 to 320 were to the left and 321 to 340 were to the right. He turned left and began staring at the various doors and looking for 318. Sarah's room was near the end of the hall. He stood in front of the deep rich brown door with a small gold sign with script numbers: 318. He wanted to knock, but he just stared, paralyzed. He drew in a shaky breath and knocked. He heard the door lock release, and in one brief second he saw Sarah's smiling face and then his arms were full with her as she grabbed him and hugged him tightly. "Sam!" she said excitedly in his ear. "Come in," she pulled him inside her two room suite never taking her hands off of him. She pulled back and looked at him longingly. He smiled at her and she pulled him close again. "No hello," she urged as she still kept hugging him.

"Hi Sss…Sarah," he stammered. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks at the embarrassment. It was bad enough dealing with his speech with strangers, but at least with them he was never anything else than what he is, but to Sarah, now he was different, and even he knew that. She stepped back and smiled at him.

"It's been a long time Sam. I'm so happy to see you again. Please, sit down. I ordered us some room service. I thought a casual dinner in the room would be nice. Is that okay?"

"It's fff…fine," he replied not wanting to meet her eyes as he stared at the floor.

"Hey, what's so interesting down there?" she quipped as she put a single finger under his chin and brought his head up to meet her eyes. She looked into the same warm expressive eyes she remembered from over a year ago, and smiled. "Now, that's better."

"Hhh…how hhh…have you bbb…been?" Sam ventured to ask as he cringed internally at his broken speech. He saw it in her eyes, it was brief, but he'd still seen it … realization that he wasn't the same Sam, not really. He saw the brief look of sympathy cross her face and disappear quickly under a masked smile.

"Good, I've been good. Business has been booming at the auction house," Sarah replied casually. "Dad keeps me pretty busy. I'm happy to say though no more haunted paintings, well, that I know of," she laughed quietly."

"Thh…that's ggg…good."

There was a long silent moment that seemed to engulf them both in the uncomfortable silence. They both fidgeted where they stood, both suddenly looked uncomfortable in their own skin.

"Here take a seat," Sarah broke the silence. They sat down at a table by the window in the sitting area of her room. Sam had surmised the suite had a sitting room with a couch, table, and TV, and the other room was the bedroom area. "So, how did your classes end before break?"

"Okay, I thh…think. Nnn…not sure yet," Sam started. "Grr…grades aren't out yyy…yet."

"Well, I'm sure you did just fine." Sarah answered a bit too bubbly. Sam knew she was uncomfortable which actually worked because he was too. There was a knock at the door.

"Room service." Sarah stood up quickly.

"Just stay there Sam," she encouraged. "I'll let him in." The kitchen waiter rolled in a cart with two trays. The entrées were covered with silver metal domes. He placed them down on the table and proceeded to put down the silverware and two cold beers, a carafe a hot coffee, and a pitcher of ice water. He left after telling Sarah when she was ready to have the items cleared to just call room service for a pick-up. Sarah sat down, "Well, take a look," she encouraged. Sam lifted the silver metal top off his plate. There was a steak and baked potato with a side of vegetables.

"Lll…looks ggg…good. Thh…thanks," he could feel himself cringe at both his speech and the fact he knew he was going to have trouble with the steak knife. He could work a pencil and pen just fine now, but the motor control he needed to cut the meat was still a problem.

"I got us two beers," she replied with a smile. She remembered they had had beer when they had gone out when she last saw Sam a year ago.

"I ccc…can't hhh…have any," he started. "Mmm…my mmm…meds."

"Oh, I'm sorry Sam," Sarah replied quickly. "I didn't even think of that. How about some coffee?" Sam shook his head indicating 'no'.

"Thh…the wa…ter is fff…fine," he answered with a shaky smile. "Thh…this is nnn…nice," he offered.

"I'm glad," she replied and shifted her attention to her plate. Sam stared at his for a long moment. His stomach was doing flip flops. He looked at the steak and then the knife and the only thought he had going through his head was _Houston we have a problem_. He picked up the knife and shifted in his hand to get a better grip. He struggled to get control of holding the knife and his fork against the meat as he tried to cut. His hands were shaking from nerves and Sarah looked up from her steak and saw him struggling. "Here, Sam," she replied casually as she reached over with her fork and knife and cut his steak for him. Sam pulled his hands away and put his utensils down. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "There you go," she said. And, there was this quality to her voice that Sam knew she would have never meant to convey on purpose, but she sounded as though she were addressing a child.

"Thh…thank you."

"It's okay. Are you okay from there?" She asked meeting his eyes as he looked up and then indicated his food.

"I ccc…can fff…feed my…self," he answered bluntly as he picked up his fork.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply…" she began.

"Sss…Sarah," Sam said as he put his fork down. "Thh…this isn't ggg…going ttt…to work. You hhh…had nnn…no real idea. I'll ggg…go." He started to stand and she reached across the table and put her hand on his.

"Sam, no, please stay. I've been so stupid. Yes, I mean, Dean told me about the head injury, but I guess I just didn't know … this isn't coming out right," she hurried on with her reply. "Sam I want you to stay. It's been so long. I want to catch up …what have you been up to?" and then she dropped her face and shook her head. "Okay, that was dumb," she chastised herself out loud.

"Nnn…no, it's okay," Sam assured. "I hhh…haven't bbb…been up to mmm…much," he started with a grin. "Um… thh…there was thh..this tiny coma and rehab. Thh…then the sss…sei…zures sss…started. Oh, and thh…then I ggg…got a hhh…heart in…fection and almost died, and I thh..then I went bbb…back to scc…school. Thh…that about ccc…covers it, I thh…think," he gave her a lopsided grin. She laughed.

"Yeah, not much, huh?" she smiled.

"Whh…what about you?" Sam asked.

**Meanwhile, The Winchester House**

The phone rang and John picked it up. "Hello?" He smiled. "Sure, could you hold on a second?" He put the kitchen phone down on the counter and walked into family room where Dean was surfing on the laptop. "You have a phone call," John replied with a wide grin. Dean looked at him.

"What's that smile for?"

"Pick up the phone and you'll know why," John hedged. "I'll hang up the kitchen phone." John watched Dean lean back on the couch and grab the cordless phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dean. Is this a bad time?" He felt his cheeks grow crimson under his father's close scrutiny and wide grin. John left to go hang up the other extension.

"No, it's not a bad time," Dean assured. "Hey April, how have you been?"

"Good. And you?"

"Good."

"Look, I know this may seem forward, but I was wondering if you'd like to go out or something. I know things have been hectic the last couple months and I wanted to wait until Sam was back on track from his infection and I thought this might be a good time. I was thinking maybe grab a bite and a movie in no particular order." There was a quiet span of empty air space, "Dean?"

He chuckled. "I'm here," he assured. "I was just waiting to see if you were done talking or had just stopped to take in some oxygen," he replied with a laugh. April laughed nervously.

"Sorry, I talk fast when I'm …" she didn't finish what she was going to say. "Um, I can rattle on sometimes," she said. Dean smiled to himself knowing she was going to say she was nervous.

"It's okay," he assured. "How about you let me do the asking? I am the guy after all."

"And when did you become all old fashioned?" She jested. She had been able to get to know Dean over the past year as a friend, and he wasn't the old fashioned type.

"Are you going to bust my chops or let me ask you out on a date?" Dean retorted.

"Okay, okay, truce," she replied. "Do your thing, oh manly man," she encouraged with a coy voice. He felt the heat rise in his cheeks again and was glad they were on the phone and not in person. April had this effect on him that made him less cock sure of himself and felt like some nervous school boy trying to get up the courage to ask a girl out for a school dance. _This is ridiculous_ he berated himself mentally. "Hello?"

"Huh? Oh yeah," he replied a bit taken back. "April, how would you like to have dinner and catch a movie this weekend?"

"Sounds fun." She replied. "Does Saturday work for you?" she questioned.

"Sure, how does _Samurai _sound? I can make some reservations."

"That place is a little expensive Dean. I'm a cheap date," she replied with a laugh.

"I've been wanting to go and I know you like sushi," there was something in his voice and the way he said sushi that made April laugh.

"You hate sushi," she replied.

"Yeah, yeah I do, but I hear they have great steaks too," he answered. "How about we eat around six and then catch a movie afterward?"

"Perfect, I'm looking forward to it."

"Okay, I'll pick you up around 5:30 on Saturday, is that okay?"

"Perfection," she replied.

**Embassy Suites, Sarah's Room**

Dinner had ended a while ago and they had sat and talked. Sarah sat curled up on the couch next to Sam as they talked. She leaned in to kiss him, and he didn't stop her. They kissed deeply and long. Her hand started to work the buttons of his shirt, and he stopped her. "Sss…Sarah, I ccc…can't," he replied in a stuttered whisper.

"It'll be okay Sam we can," Sarah encouraged. "I've been thinking about this for a year. And, despite everything …you're still Sam to me."

"Thh…that's nnn…not the ppp…prob…lem," he answered as he stopped her fingers from trying to unfasten his buttons again.

"Then what?" she asked as she pulled her hands back and put them in her lap. There was a long pause of silence. "Is this about you feeling like you're cursed Sam? Because we've been over this I thought … it's not up to you to make my decisions for me. I'm a big girl. Everything turned out fine before. This can work."

"Nnn…no it ccc…can't." Sam answered. "Thh…that was jjj…just a ppp…pissed off ghost you sss…saw. Thh…that accident lll…last year hhh…hap…pened when we were from a demon. Thh..the sss…same demon thh…that kkk…killed my Mom and ggg…girl…friend. Mmm…my fff…family is hhh…hunt…ing it. You're not sss…safe ggg…getting in…volved with mmm…me." And, with that final sentence Sarah could see the mental and emotional doors closing in Sam and knew he meant what he was saying.

"So, this is it then?" Sam nodded. "This demon you're family is hunting, can it be killed or whatever it is you do with demons?" She couldn't believe she was having this conversation.

"Mmm…my ddd…dad thh…thinks so. It's evil Sss…Sarah, and no woman I care for is sss…safe with me. It almost kkk…killed Dean. I ccc…can't risk you. I won't."

"Okay," she replied quietly. "I can't change your mind?" Sam shook his head sadly. "What if I'm willing to take the risk?" Sam looked at her with soft warm eyes.

"I'm not," he answered simply.

**One Hour Later**

"Hello," Dean spoke into his cell phone. He looked at his watch Sammy had been with Sarah a good six hours since he dropped him off at the hotel.

"Dean? I'm rrr…ready," Sam replied.

"You okay?"

"Fff…fine. I'll bbb…be in the lll…lobby."

"Okay, make sure you stay inside until I get there. It's started snowing again and it's colder than a witch's ass outside."

"Yeah." There was this sad quality to his brother's voice that bothered Dean.

"All right, I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Okay."

Dean pulled up by the lobby and saw Sam exit drawing his jacket closer to himself to stave off the bitter winter wind. He sat heavily into the car and only offered a quick glance at his big brother. "Thh…thanks fff…for getting me," and he shifted his eyes forward and fell into silence. Dean said nothing. He kept giving his brother cursory glances out of his peripheral vision trying to read his sibling. He saw a red light coming up and a long line of traffic he slowed to a stop awaiting the cycle of the light. He saw his opportunity.

"Sammy?" He replied tentatively. Silence was his brother's response. "Sammy, come on kiddo," Dean turned his eyes fully to his brother as the traffic remained unmoving. "You okay?" Sam turned his head slowly and met his brother's eyes. Dean looked into his little brother's eyes and saw the pain.

"I'm fff…fine," Sam answered quietly. Dean continued to look at his brother. "Ggg…green," Sam stammered.

"Huh?" Dean responded still looking at his brother.

"Ggg…green," Sam answered as he pointed to the traffic that had begun to creep forward.

"Oh, yeah," Dean responded quickly and turned his eyes toward the traffic and pushed down on the accelerator. The tires spun for a moment as the powerful V8 engine pushed the car forward in the snowy and icy streets of downtown Jefferson City. They pulled into the driveway at home and Dean drove into the garage as he hit the remote. Sam got out without saying another word, and walked into the kitchen. John looked up as his youngest entered tapping the remnants of snow and slush off his shoes against the step before stepping into the kitchen.

"Hey Sammy," he smiled, but his smile fell when his youngest didn't return the smile.

"Hi Dad," Sam replied as he walked passed him and headed to his room. Dean came in right after his brother's retreating back and John met his oldest child's eyes and his own eyes conveyed questions and concerns to Dean. Dean's face was solemn and he only shook his head in response. John sighed knowing that the visit had apparently not gone that well.

"Dean," John reached out and grabbed the elbow of his son's leather jacket. "He needs to work through whatever happened in that hotel on his own."

"But, Dad," Dean replied with stricken eyes. "He's hurting," he replied quietly not meeting his father's eyes. John motioned for him to take a seat at the kitchen table, and they both sat.

"I know, but let him have some time. I want to help him too, but right now I think he needs space. He's coming to terms with a lot of things I suspect and right now we have to allow him that time." Dean looked at his father and nodded in assent with trepidation. "I know … I'm worried too. We'll check on him later, but we're not going to push him to talk, okay?" John paused and let out a long sigh. "He's grieving Dean and we have to let him."

"Grieving?" Dean turned confused eyes to his dad.

"There are different kinds of grief Dean," John offered bluntly. "Sammy has lost a lot in the past year, and after everything he still worries about the demon and what letting himself care for another woman might cost him, cost her. He's grieving and we have to allow him that, right?"

"Yeah," Dean's response was gruff and emotion filled. "Maybe, I should cancel with April for Saturday," Dean hedged. John put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed.

"No, Dean," John answered bluntly. "Look, I know you love your brother, but whether you've noticed it or not you've put your entire life on hold to make sure he's okay, safe, and healthy. You need to live Dean. Sam wouldn't want you to give up everything for him."

"I'm not giving up things for him Dad," Dean's eyes held a hint of anger. The conversation reminded him of their fight in the hospital over a year ago when Sam was still in a coma. "I haven't sacrificed anything Dad. It's Sammy, he's my brother." John smiled warmly.

"Now, don't go getting all worked up," he replied with his hands raised in mock surrender. "I know you have no regrets, and yeah, you don't see what you've given up for yourself while putting Sammy first…" Dean cut him off.

"Sammy always comes first Dad … that's rule number one, remember?"

"Dean," John began. "I remember the rule, but Sam's an adult now, and you're both grown men. If you don't go out and experience some life for yourself the day will come when you might resent your brother," John offered. Dean turned shocked eyes to his father.

"I could never resent Sammy, Dad. Never."

"Well, I'm sure you really believe that Dean, but it can creep on you," John replied. "Do you want to get to that point?"

"No," Dean answered quietly. "But, how can I date someone Dad? You know have a relationship, maybe …" he hedged. "And, Sammy's alone …" John stopped his son right there.

"Sammy's not alone Dean he has you and me, and maybe someday he'll decide to risk loving another girl again, and maybe he won't and that has to be Sam's choice and no one else's son. And, maybe he'll start making some friends at school," John countered with a hopeful smile. "At least a group he can hang out with on campus or something."

"Yeah," Dean answered

**Two Weeks Later, Jefferson Community College**

"Seth, what are you lookin' at man?"

"Damn retard was in my political science class," Seth hissed from the student lounge area in the college library. "He got a better damn grade than I did," he groused. "Pisses me off!" He spat. "Damn tard gets special treatment."

"How do you even know he did better," Mark replied.

"I was outside Dassler's office waiting to find out my final grade and heard him talking to that retard. I heard him say he got a 'B' and then I'm thinking, well, hell if that short bus kid got a 'B' I probably aced the class."

"And?"

"Got a fucking 'C'." Seth watched Sam look at his watch from behind the library's front desk. Sam had needed an extra week of orientation to help him adjust to the new protocols and rules at the college library. Today was his last day before he could have the rest of his holiday break off. Dean was off work today, and was picking him up because the weather was too cold and both John and Dean had convinced Sam to forego the bus during the winter, so they dropped Sam off and picked him up. Seth watched Sam say something to his supervisor and go to grab his backpack. "See that," Seth spat. "Fucker even got a student job here or something. I tried to just for the extra cash, but they said they had no availability, but suddenly he just shows up and is here working. He can't even talk right." Seth complained. "Stutters like an idiot."

"Seth, man," Mark tried to calm his friend. "He looks like a nice kid. Maybe, you just oughta be glad you're not in his shoes, ya know?"

"What? You a flag waiver for retards now? You know I saw him in the financial aid office during the school quarter. Damn, head case has a full ride here. State pays for him, and I get shit. I'm up to my ass in student loans, and I haven't even finished my transfer credits that I'm doing before I transfer to Missouri State." Seth saw Sam leave for the door and he got up to follow him.

"What are you doing?" Mark stood up a bit alarmed.

"Going to go tell that retard what I think." Mark reached out to stop his friend.

"Seth, man, chill okay? Leave the kid alone." Seth jerked his arm away.

"No," he hissed.

"Fine, but I want no part of this," Mark replied as he sat back down. "You want to act like an asshole and a stupid one at that then go make a fool of yourself. You want to feel all self important and tell a mentally challenged kid off then go ahead."

"Oh, I'm gonna do more than tell him off," he muttered as he stormed out. Mark cast a worried glance toward the person he had grown up with and tried to evaluate if he actually would try to hurt the kid. Seth wasn't mean by nature, but when angry or feeling wronged he could be unpredictable.

Sam crossed the quad as quickly as he could. The ground was slick in spots and he was trying not to slip. He knew Dean would be waiting out at the drop-off and pick-up curb near the quad. "Hey!" Sam stopped and turned toward the shout. He recognized the guy as a fellow classmate. He smiled.

"Hhh…hi Sss…Seth."

"Yeah," he spat. "Hhhh….hi Ssss…Sam," he mocked Sam's speech. Sam drew back from him. "You fuckin' retard you know Dassler gave you a better grade than me? Huh?"

"I www….worked fff…for my grade."

"Bullshit, it was handed to you on a platter. And, your stupid ass gets a full ride here for bein' a tard and I'm in debt up to my goddamn eyeballs in student loans."

"Nnnn….not my ffff…fault. Not fault." Sam's speech was spiraling out of control as his stuttering increased and began to fragment. "Nnn…not sss…stupid. Nnn…not retard."

"You really are a fucking idiot aren't you," Seth spat. "You are a retard … you know the kind that went to school on the short bus. What your family tell you the smart kids went in that bus and you were special?" Sam felt his face get hot as his anger boiled up.

"Sss..screw you Sss…Seth," Sam spat. "I not on sss…short bbb…bus. Hhh…had accident and hhh…hurt mmm…my hhh…head."

"I couldn't give a flying fuck," he spat.

Dean sat tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the music as he waited for his brother. "Come on Sammy," he complained. He looked at his watch. Sam was pretty punctual when he was getting picked up and Dean knew he should have been here a good ten minutes ago. The last couple weeks had been a bit tenuous with Sam after Sarah left. He hadn't said much since that day concerning what he and Sarah had said. Sam had told them she was leaving the next day on a flight a day earlier than planned, and that everything was for the better. He hadn't said anymore, but Dean and John both knew eventually he would talk about what was said. He looked at his watch again, and grunted. He was seeing April again tonight for their seventh date in as little as two weeks and wanted to get back home to get changed.

"Dammit," Dean complained as he pulled forward and selected a metered parking spot. He dug around in the car for some change and dropped a quarter in the meter buying himself a half-hour. He started toward the quad he knew his brother crossed to get to him from the library.

Mark had decided he better go make sure Seth wasn't making a colossal ass of himself, but mostly he wanted to make sure he really wasn't gonna hurt the kid. He knew his friend could get a little irrational when he was all fired up.

"Well, I'm about to give you another fuckin' head injury," Seth spat as he took a swing at Sam. Sam side stepped him and reached a hand out and pushed Seth as the man over extended beyond Sam and left himself off balance. He fell over and slammed into the snow covered concrete. Sam stepped back trying to get a little more space between himself and his old classmate. "You're dead," Seth growled as he pushed himself up from the ground. Sam stepped backed as the guy advanced on him.

"Nnn…not www…want ttt..to fight," Sam pleaded as he took another step back. Dean had heard his brother's fractured speech and what he had said. He took off running around the corner seeing Sam and some guy stalking toward his little brother. He noted in the distance another guy had just stepped out of the library and was running toward the fight, as well.

"No one pushes me especially not some fuckin' retard," Seth yelled.

"Only ggg…getting you away from me. I nnn…not hurt."

Dean continued to run and cursed the damn slick icy spots slowing him down. He heard what was being said, but he was still too far away to help. "Seth! Leave the kid alone," Dean heard the other man running yell toward the guy threatening his little brother. Dean watched as Sam took another step back and hit an icy patch on the ground. Sam windmilled his arms for a second to keep his balance, and it was enough of a distraction for Seth to hit Sam. Sam's head snapped to the side as the man's fist connected with his right cheek and mouth. Sam tasted the thick coppery blood fill his mouth. He spit it out on the snow. Seth slammed into Sam knocking him to the ground. Sam's head connected against the hard packed snow and ice. He saw stars for a second erupting behind his eyes in a firework display. Seth straddled Sam and was about to strike when Sam heard a guttural yell like some wild animal, and he saw a blur as a body launched over him taking Seth off of him. He lay there stunned staring up at the winter gray sky.

"I'll kill you!" Dean screamed as he began punching Seth. Seth raised his hands trying to deflect the precise hits Dean was delivering. Dean shifted from hitting his face to body hits. The blows were vicious. Dean felt himself pulled off of Seth and his arms pulled tightly behind himself. "I'll kill you for touching my brother! No one fucking hurts him!"

"Hey! Hey! You gotta stop," Mark yelled trying to break through Dean's blind rage. Mark had heard Dean say 'my brother' and he knew where the protective rage was coming from. "You gotta stop," Mark pulled back hard and severed Dean's contact with Seth. The snow around Seth was sprayed with flecks of blood and thick red droplets formed a polka-dot pattern. Seth turned over moaning and spitting blood into the snow. Dean turned angry eyes to Mark. "Hey, I'm just trying to keep the peace," he offered. Dean jerked away from Mark and stared at Seth with blazing eyes. Seth was sitting up, but his eyes were staring at the still form in the snow a few feet away.

"What'd I do? I didn't really mean to hurt the kid? I….I…" And, Dean followed Seth's eyes, and in that instant his rage dissipated enough that he remembered why he had been in this fight in the first place.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice came out soft and broken as he scrambled toward his brother's unmoving body.

"Mark? Man, what did I do?" Mark helped his friend stand and had to take some of his weight as his legs almost gave out. They stood stock still as Dean slid to his knees kneeling over Sam.

"Sammy?" Dean felt hot tears already forming in his eyes. Sam's eyes were open and he stared unfocused up at the sky. Dean put his face in Sam's direct eyesight as he pushed back his bangs. "Sam? Can you hear me? Sammy?" Sam's eyes focused on Dean's face.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded confused.

"Yeah, Sammy it's me. You okay?" Sam started to move his limbs that he had forgotten he even had. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated. "Sammy stay still."

"Nnn…no," Sam's voice became a little more sure of itself. "I'm okay. Hhh…hit my hhh…head." He sat up slowly with his brother's help. He reached a hand back behind his head with tentative fingers and winced.

"Let me see," Dean's voice was gruff. "Just a little bump." Dean said as he examined it. "It's not bleeding. Here let me see your face," Dean took his little brother's face gently in his examining hands. "You sure you're okay?" Sam nodded and looked behind his brother at the bloody face of Seth leaning against his friend. Dean turned and looked at the two students who hadn't moved from there spot in the snow.

"The kid okay?" Seth dared to ask. Sam saw his brother's entire body tense and the muscle in his jaw constrict. Sam put a hand on his brother to silently tell him to let it go. Dean helped Sam to his feet. Sam swayed a moment and gained his balance. Dean put a protective and supportive arm around his brother's shoulders.

"You ever so much as look crossed-eyed at my brother again I will kill you," Dean threatened as he continued to support Sam. "You understand?" Seth nodded silently. He shifted his eyes to Mark supporting his friend against him. "You better keep that friend of yours on a short leash because he comes near my brother again," Dean's voice was low and dangerous. "Because if he does, I promise they'll never find his body." Mark felt a chill work down his spine.

Dean helped Sam to the car. The meter was blinking expired, but luckily no meter maid had shown up to issue him a ticket. Dean settled his brother in the front seat and closed the door. He slid in and pulled out his phone. "Whh…who you ccc…calling?"

"Dr. Myers, I want her to check your head out."

"I sss…said I'm fff…fine."

"Not taking any chances Sammy," Dean replied. Sam knew it was pointless to argue. His mind went back to the quad and the words that Seth had said to him, but mostly his thoughts gravitated around his brother's warning to the man that had hit him. He had seen something animalistic in his brother's eyes for an instant. Sam had always known his brother would protect him, but seeing his brother's eyes today and hearing his words made Sam shudder at what his brother would do for him to keep him safe, to protect him from the world. Sam looked at his brother as he spoke on his cell and a soft smile crept up at the edges of his mouth, and he flinched slightly when his split lip protested the action. Dean snapped his phone shut and looked at Sam. "She said to bring you to the rehab center and she'll take a look at you and she wants an MRI to be on the safe side." Sam nodded, but said nothing. "You feelin', okay Sammy? Your head hurting?"

"Nnn…not bbb…bad. I'm okay." Dean couldn't resist the need to reach out and ruffle his kid brother's hair gently. Sam ducked away.

"Come on," Dean replied with a soft smile. "Let's get you checked out." He pulled out and into traffic. Sam looked at his brother and realized with sudden clarity that yes … he loved his big brother and would die for him without hesitation that was a given, but this was the first time he had actually ever felt in awe of his big brother. _My brother's amazing. How did I never notice that before_, Sam's thoughts filled his head as he turned his eyes from his big brother's profile to look out the windshield as they drove out of the city.

**To Be Continued**

**All reviews and comments are appreciated. Thanks for taking the time to share your thoughts. I try to get back to everyone, but I'm sure some of you have fallen through the proverbial cracks, sorry. Thanks!**

**Read and Review.**


	25. Interlude

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** I want to thank everyone for their reviews. And, after the FFnet problems and alert delays for chapter 24 … I hope everyone received their review replies that I sent to them, if not, my apologies. Hopefully, this update will go off without a hitch. I don't want to pigeonhole myself by quoting a definite chapter count until this story is done, but I'm thinking beyond this chapter … maybe, two to three, give or take and then it will be done. I decided to post a couple days early. I didn't think you'd mind. As always, thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Chapter Twenty-five**

**Interlude **

By Dawn Nyberg

"_I always thought of myself as a house. I was always what I lived in. It didn't need to be big; it didn't even need to be beautiful. It just needed to be mine. I became what I was meant to be. I built myself a life…"_ excerpt from _Life as a House_

January 24, 2009

Dean and his father were both off work for a Friday. Sam was at rehab and Dean was having an afternoon with his dad for his birthday. There was a car show in town at the convention center, so they were going to spend the morning there and then pick up Sam, and go out for a guys lunch at a new sports bar and grill that had just opened the previous week.

"Twenty-nine, son," John began as he drove his truck and looked over at his firstborn. "You make me feel old," he quipped

"Geez, thanks dad. I thought having kids was supposed to make you feel younger," he smirked. "Well, at least mentally," he mused. John reached over and flipped his son in the head with a finger.

"Ow!" Dean groused. "Child abuse," he complained. John rolled his eyes.

"Child abuse? Sorry, you're too old to claim that," he countered.

"Okay, assault then," Dean answered with a proud of himself grin. John smiled warmly.

"You know," he started. "I bet I never told you that you get your quick wit from your mother. She could turn the tides on me so quick sometimes my head would spin. You remind me of your mother a lot son." Dean looked at his dad and smiled softly.

"I do?"

"Yep, you do." Dean met his dad's eyes and their shared looks spoke volumes. John reached out and lovingly cuffed the back of his son's head as he drove. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Has Sammy said anything to you about why he's been doing so much rehab? He's been going a lot more lately ever since…"

"Ever since Sarah left," Dean finished. "I know. I don't know dad maybe he's working through some things and doing more rehab is helping him. And, he's been a little driven ever since that asshole at campus took a swing at him." Dean felt the familiar rage creep up again at the thought of that day. "Damn when I think about that day dad, I still want to kill the guy. If Sam had been hurt that day and Dr. Myers had found a problem I would have hunted that guy down." John looked at his son with intense eyes.

"Dean, we would have found him together, and had had a word with him before turning him over to the police for assault, but it didn't come to that, thank God. You could be right though," John hedged. "Maybe that school incident is prompting him a little, but you said he was actually doing okay holding that kid off until he slipped on that slick spot. It's just that I worry he's over doing it," John commented. "I mean he's been looking great, but I just worry."

"Yeah, but if it were all too much for Sammy they wouldn't let him. And, it's just not his PT he's increased dad … it's everything. I think it's good for him."

"Yeah," John conceded. Dean looked at his dad and nodded. "Sometimes it seems that certain words are a little easier. Has April said anything about his speech therapy progress?"

"Nah, she's usually pretty quiet about that stuff. I guess confidentiality crap or something, but come to think of it she usually gives me updates, but she hasn't said anything for about a month." Dean just assumed that Sam's progress was about the same and there wasn't anything significant to report, and Sam certainly hadn't said anything.

"Well, if there were something to report I guess she would. Maybe, Sammy asked her not to say anything," John suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Dean replied.

"So, when we get to the convention center," John began as he diverted the conversation and the day back onto his son and celebrating his birthday. "What do you want to look at first the foreign or domestics?"

"How about the domestics and we'll work our way around the place? I hear they're having some pretty cool concept cars out this year too," Dean replied. John smiled and nodded. He hadn't seen Dean look this excited in a long time. It was nice to see his son having a life, and he recalled his wish for Dean over a year ago when he stood in front of both his boys in Salvation, Iowa. He had said he wanted 'Sam to go to school, and for Dean to have a home.' And, Dean had a home now and he enjoyed seeing the calmness that had moved into his oldest child's countenance over the past few months.

**Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

"Sam why haven't you told your brother and father yet?" Mel questioned as he watched Sam run on the treadmill.

"Soon. I wanted to bb…be sure I stayed better. I'm not pp…perfect." Sam smiled at Mel.

"Perfect, what's that?" Mel chided. "You've been going gang busters on your rehab since the middle of December." Mel commented as he watched his young patient. "Sam you've been able to run on this treadmill like you're doing a marathon for the last couple weeks now. You're a machine. Yeah, your left side still has a little hesitation now and again, but you should really be proud of your progress. And I can't believe you didn't tell them about you seeing Dr. Jarvis the speech pathologist."

"Surprise," Sam answered. "I still ss…screw up when I don't concentrate or gg…get upset. I'll probably always hh…have the ss…stutter when I get worked up."

"I just can't believe you've managed to hide it these past three almost four weeks. They never wondered why you wanted to up your rehab visits during December?"

"No, they thought it was gg…good." Sam knew his reasons for upping the frequency of his rehab and seeing the speech pathologist. He wanted this for himself, his family, and as much as he tried to deny it … Sarah. He knew that no matter how much progress he made physically with his motor skills and speech he was still brain damaged. Sam knew he was fundamentally different, and that was just the way it was. He would never be the kind of _normal_ he was before his head injury, but he thought to himself _what is normal anyway? Really?_

"And, man, the fact that Dr. Jarvis came on staff and specializes in severe speech deficits and is an expert in overcoming most stuttering problems, you got damn lucky. And, he was able to put you through that intense therapy in his trial acceleration protocol. I know Dr. Myers had her eye on him for a while because he's done such great work with head injury patients with speech deficits. I'm glad he came on board, and that you finally had a stroke of luck."

"Yeah, I know… I'm lucky." Sam panted his reply as he continued to run on the treadmill. "It's Dean's birthday today. I did this as much ff…for him as I did for mm..me."

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask… how's your dad doing these days since the heart attack?"

"Dad's cardiologist says he's as hh…healthy as a horse. He said he's never ss…seen someone bounce back so fully. I mean, he watches what he eats now, and ss…stays away from the caffeine. Yeah, I see him ss…splurge and have a beer now and again, but he's in great shape. They already cleared him ff…from his heart rehab. Dad's doc said he could probably run a race if he wanted too," Sam snorted. "Not that dad's the race running type. But, yeah, he's good."

"That's great," Mel replied. "You know, I was thinking the other day, and you know if you can manage to stay seizure free for a year you'll be able to drive again. That'll give you some more freedom."

"Yeah, I know, but I'm not complaining at least Dad and Dean let me take the bus as long as I tell them where I'm going and stuff. I ss..still think I could drive now. I only get small seizures once in a while, and they aren't bad. I know whh…when they are coming."

"Yeah, well don't push yourself." Mel replied. "And on the topic of pushing yourself," he began. "Why don't you slow down and walk on this thing for a while. Cool down. You make me tired just watching you." Sam smiled wide. "So, how has your family not noticed your speech has improved," Mel questioned.

"When I'm with them I try not to use the techniques that Dr. Jarvis tt..taught me and when I don't I stutter like usual." Mel shook his head.

"Shame on you," he reprimanded lightly.

"I wanted to be sure I cc…could do it before I told them. I didn't want to disappoint them after everything I've pp..put them through."

"Well, kiddo, you know there is nothing else I can do for you. You've got your large motor skills back fully. And your fine motor skills for the most part are back to normal with a few kinks here and there, but nothing that won't resolve itself if you keep at it."

"You tryin' to get rid of me?" Sam quipped.

"Nah, I love havin' ya around. But, you've graduated basically and it's time to send you on your way, so to speak." Mel reached up and patted Sam on his shoulder as he walked on the treadmill. "You know when I think back to a few months ago and when you collapsed," Mel's face was serious. "You really scared me that day kiddo."

"Sorry Mel. I knew I felt bad, but I sure nn…never thought I had a heart infection."

"Yeah, it was just one of those freak things," Mel offered. "So, I hear the only part of your rehab you haven't been cleared from yet is OT, right?"

"Yeah, Darlene ss…still wants me to learn some things. I know I will always hh…have some problems, but I can ask for help or ff…figure it out on my own once the OT is done. And, I still have a couple more weeks with Dr. Jarvis, but yeah, I'm bb…basically done with everything, bb…but OT." Sam paused. "You know lately I feel more nn…normal, but I know there are things I still dd…don't get. I'm not gonna be normal, but pretty damn close." Mel smiled warmly.

"You know Sam you have never ceased to surprise me from the get go. When you started to come out of your coma and engage your environment I could see a real fighter in your eyes. I knew I was going to have a feisty pistol on my hands, and boy was I right." Sam laughed as he slowed the treadmill and stepped off.

"I'm glad I dd…didn't let you down. Thanks ff…for everything Mel." Sam extended his hand and shook the man's hand firmly.

"Sure thing Sam." Sam and Mel hugged, and Sam excused himself to go shower and out on a fresh change of cloths before his family came to get him.

Sam waited out in the lobby for his dad and brother to pick him up. He was glad that Dean was having a day out with their father. They had asked him if he wanted to forego rehab for a single Friday to join them at the car show, but he knew Dean deserved and morning and afternoon to be the center of their dad's world, and especially for his birthday. He saw the truck pull in under the overhand by the lobby and Sam walked out. He could see Dean was smiling about something to their father and then he threw his head back and laughed. Sam smiled at the sight. Dean turned his head and saw his brother approaching and opened the truck door. "Come on Sammy," he called out. Sam slid into the truck. "So, how was rehab today?" Sam smiled to himself.

"Okay," he answered and continued allowing his mind to forget his training from Dr. Jarvis. "Ddd…did you and dad lll…like the car show?"

"Yeah, you should have seen some of the awesome concept cars they had there. You still up for the bar and grill?" Dean questioned looking his brother over.

"Yeah. It's yyy…your bbb…birthday." Dean smiled. "You ggg…got a date with April ttt…tonight?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled. "She wants to make me dinner." Sam made this kissing sound with his lips and Dean blushed as he reached over and lightly shoved his brother's head with his hand.

"Hey!" Sam complained.

"Boys," John warned in the tone Sam and Dean recognized from their youth. It was that same voice their dad would use in the Impala when driving to hunts and they'd start in on each other. It was John's infamous _don't make me have to stop this car_ voice. Both boys looked at their father and laughed. John just shook his head with a mild grin.

**April's Apartment, 11:00 PM**

She curled up against Dean warm under the crisp sheets. She traced a single finger along his sternum as he reached a hand up and affectionately brushed her long hair out of her face. "Did you like your dinner?" she whispered as she brought her face up to Dean's and kissed him before he could answer. When they pulled apart he smiled.

"I told you I thought it was delicious, but I gotta say," he began with a broad Dean Winchester smile. "Dessert puts dinner to shame, and on that note," he whispered with a sly smile as he began to nuzzle her neck. "I'm thinkin' seconds for the birthday boy are in order." April laughed.

"Oh really," she cooed. "Hmm…" she replied as she snaked her body on top of his and sat up straddling him for a moment before she bent down and began to explore his chest with her mouth slowly working her way up to his face. And, when she reached his lips she hovered for a long moment, and grinned. His hazel-green eyes studied her with anticipation and hunger. "I think seconds can be arranged," she answered coyly as their lips met.

**The Winchester House**

John clicked the TV off and looked over at Sam's sleeping form on the couch. They had stayed up to watch _The Shawshank Redemption_ and his youngest child had lasted almost all the way through, but succumbed to fatigue and his final dosage of seizure medication for the night thirty minutes before the movie ended. "Hey, Sammy," John spoke softly and gently. He reached over a pushed his son's unruly bangs back. "Sammy, time for bed son," John encouraged. Sam stirred and opened his eyes.

"I mm…miss the end," Sam complained with a sleep inflected voice.

"It's okay sport. The channel mentioned about an encore showing tomorrow afternoon, if you want to watch it. Come on let's get you in bed."

"I'm nnn…not ten dad," Sam replied with a small smile as he got up from the couch. He looked at the clock on the wall and then back at his dad. "Dean not home." John smiled at his son with a knowing tell-tale grin. "April's, huh?" Sam said with a grin.

"All night would be my guess kiddo," John replied with a look of amusement. "He'll probably roll in sometime tomorrow morning." Sam nodded. Sam walked into the restroom and brushed his teeth. He was already in his sweat pants and t-shirt he intended to sleep in. He stared in the mirror and felt torn. He was happy his brother had finally reclaimed his life and was actually dating someone, but part of him was envious because he wanted to be with Sarah and couldn't allow himself because of the demon. He had meant to try his speech techniques at home tonight, but felt like he'd take away from Dean's birthday, so he had decided to do it tomorrow. He chastised himself silently for even allowing one moment of envy toward his happy brother. Dean deserved to be happy. He had been the glue to this family his whole life, and now it was his turn to get something back. Sam came out of the bathroom and noticed his father coming down the hallway from the family room.

"Just checking the protection charms," John replied. "Old habits son," he mused. "Even though it's been quiet we can't get complacent. You ready for bed?"

"Yeah," Sam surveyed his father as the man partially followed his son into his bedroom. "What you ggg…going to tuck mmm…me in?" Sam laughed.

"No, smart ass. I just wanted to say goodnight and make sure you put your monitor on," John answered. John watched Sam put his pulse-ox monitor on and nodded with approval. "Look I know you're good about remembering, but I guess I just like to see it on you," he hedged. "Sweet dreams Sammy," John said with a warm look on his face. "See you in the morning."

"'Night dad." John turned off the light in Sam's room and closed the door behind him with a quiet click.

John sat up in his bed scanning the shadows and listening to the sounds of the house. He looked at the illuminated numbers of his bedside clock, it was 4:30 AM, and he was certain something had awoken him, but what. He tossed his covers aside and climbed out of bed clad in sweats and a grey t-shirt with the auto shops logo on the front. He reached into his nightstand and pulled out his loaded 9mm pistol. He stood in the hallway listening and heard nothing, but silence. He started to wonder if maybe the remnants of a dream had awakened him and was playing tricks with his psyche. He wandered around the house with his hunter senses reaching out to detect any threat. He found nothing. John wouldn't go back to bed without checking on Sam, so he turned the knob on his son's door and entered quietly. His youngest was sleeping soundly curled on his side with his head nestled partly on his pillow and in the crook of his arm. John pulled the fleece blanket up and covered Sam back up. His baby boy had always been a blanket tosser and apparently that was something you didn't outgrow.

Finally, sleep worked its way back over John and he relaxed.

**Mid-Morning, the Winchester House**

Sam sat at the kitchen table surfing the net on the laptop while his father read the paper across from him. Both men had woken up a little earlier and had breakfast all ready, and now they were just enjoying the quiet of the morning. The rumble of the Impala was distinct and John lowered his newspaper to share a glance with his youngest. Sam grinned and went back to his laptop. Dean came in the kitchen door from the garage. His family looked up at his entrance.

"Morning son," John commented evenly. "Late night?" Dean cleared his voice.

"Yeah, you know…" Dean responded with a grin.

"Was dinner good?" Sam asked his brother. Dean smiled at the thought of his dessert.

"Yep, I can't complain."

Dean poured himself a cup of decaf coffee and joined his family at the table. Sam surveyed his brother and father casually and decided this was as good a time as any to try speaking. "So," he began tentatively. Both John and Dean looked at Sam.

"Yeah, kiddo," John spoke for himself and his oldest.

"Hh…has April told you about ss…speech therapy?" Sam let out a frustrated sigh as his nerves toward his announcement were influencing his ability to try and not stutter. He took a deep breath.

"No, she hasn't said anything. Why? Something wrong?" Dean asked as he shared a concerned glance with his father. "Should April have told me or dad something?"

"No, I haven't bb…been seeing her," Sam answered. "I thh..thought she might have said something."

"What?" John spoke before Dean had a chance.

"I ss…stopped speech therapy with her," Sam replied. He needed to get control of his nerves.

"You what?" Dean spoke suddenly. "Sam, you can't, you…" Sam raised a hand up to stop his brother. Dean closed his mouth and just looked at his brother.

"She doesn't know why," Sam spoke carefully. "She thinks I jj…just changed days for speech days, but I've bb…been seeing someone new." Dean and John just stared at Sam. "Dr. Jarvis is a new speech pathol…ogist at the center. He special…izes in head trauma with speech problems … especially with stuttering. I wanted to surprise you and dad. I still screw up if I don't concentrate or get upset, but…" Sam stopped talking as he saw a smile creep up at the edges of Dean's mouth.

"Say something else Sammy," Dean urged. John stared intently at his youngest son.

"Like what? I could ramble all day if you want …" Sam was cut off suddenly as his brother quickly stood and pulled his brother up out of his seat and pulled him into a bear hug.

"Hot damn Sammy," Dean was beaming as he stepped back from his little brother. "You sneaky bastard," Dean replied. "That's why you upped your rehab, huh? So, you could see this speech dude at the center."

"Partly," Sam replied.

"Partly?" John chimed in.

"I can run on the tt…treadmill now. My left side only has a little trouble now."

"Run?" John questioned with uncertainty. "Really, son?"

"Yeah, Mel says I'm a machine. But," Sam thought he should provide his family a reminder to his earlier statements. "I still have a little tt…trouble with the left side, but mostly, yeah, I can rr…run. And, my speech isn't perfect, but if I try hard I can hold back the stutter most of the time. I'm not perfect, bb…but better." It was John's turn to stand and envelop his baby son in a warm embrace.

"I've been so proud of you Sammy, but this I have no words for it. All your hard work," he replied gently. "You and your brother both make me proud. I'm damn lucky to have you both." Dean watched his father hug his brother and he felt pride for his family and the strong strides they had made as a real family since John came back into his and Sammy's life. Dean felt quiet inside; he had his family and in the midst of the chaos and upheaval of the past year … Dean Winchester found himself a life.

The family moment was interrupted by the kitchen phone ringing. John looked at his watch. "Who calls at 9:30 on a Saturday morning?" The boys sat back down at the kitchen table as their father went to answer the phone. Dean was still beaming at his little brother.

"Maybe it's April?" Sam replied with a knowing smile directed at his brother. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

"Nah, she had a family thing today across town."

"Hello?" John spoke. "Joshua?" He replied as he glanced at his boys across the kitchen.

The simple name brought both Dean and Sam's eyes up and they met their father's eyes briefly. Dean shifted a nervous look to his little brother … the supernatural had just come calling again.

**To Be Continued**

**As always, I appreciate each and every reader that takes the time to review. And, also I wanted to say thank you to each reader that has stuck with the story since it began and continues to stay with it for each new chapter. It is my hope to have this story done in another 2 to 3 chapters. And, whether or not you leave a review or your thoughts when a chapter is posted … I'm still quite thankful for you as a reader.**

**Read and Review!**

**Side Note:** I hope I'm not the only one just about to implode from anticipation for the season 2 premiere this Thursday, September 28! I'm giddy with excitement.


	26. Rising Darkness

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Thanks for all of the reviews for chapter 25. I anticipate two more chapters after this one, and this story should be complete. Feel free to leave your reviews, comments, and thoughts! They are all appreciated and are great motivators. Thanks again! I'm posting a little early, but I doubt you'll mind.

**Chapter Twenty-six**

**Rising Darkness**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Prick your finger it is done, the moon has now eclipsed the sun … the angel has spread his wings… the time has come for bitter things."_ excerpt by Marilyn Manson, _Cryptorchid_

John walked back into the kitchen with the cordless phone he placed it back down in its battery charger cradle with a heavy sigh. He kept his back to his boys. Dean was the first to speak.

"Dad? What'd Joshua want?" John's mind was at odds with his heart and he bowed his head without turning around. Dean cast a worried look to Sam who sat quietly next to him surveying his father's body language. The phone call had lasted over thirty minutes with most of it taking place out of their earshot, so both boys wanted to know what had been said. "Dad?" Dean asked again. John sighed again and turned around. He met his oldest son's eyes and then his baby boy's.

"Joshua and Jefferson are gearing up for a hunt," John paused. "It's a demon."

"A demon or _the_ Demon," Dean asked with intense eyes. John shared his son's intense look.

"There haven't been the signs, so I'm guessing just a demon," John hesitated. "But, where's there's smoke there's usually fire," John hedged and Dean understood.

"Where?"

"Chanute, Kansas," John replied as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"You gg…going?" Sam asked with an unsure voice. John looked at his youngest son with warm eyes. He could see trepidation in his boy's eyes and he hated being the source.

"I…" he cast his eyes down. "I don't want to leave you boys, and I'd have to tell Dan that I need time off, it's…"

"Go Dad," Dean spoke calmly. "Sammy and I are good. We'll see you when you get back. And Dan will give you the time off." John looked from Dean to Sam and shifted his eyes to look out the window. "What? What else did Joshua say? I mean, if he's getting Jefferson in on this hunt it must be heavy duty." Dean commented as his mind went back to the first time he had met Jefferson Lucian, a forty-something professor of ancient mythology by day at a college in Arizona, and a hunter and expert demonologist in his second life, the one he hide from his day life.

"This demon crossed holy ground," John replied quietly as he continued to look out the window."

"Like the one that killed Pastor Jim?" Dean questioned with pained eyes as he remembered the kind man from his childhood. He hadn't allowed himself to think about Jim or Caleb, and in retrospect he never really had the time. His life had taken a precarious turn right around their deaths. Their father had been possessed, he himself had nearly been killed by the Demon, and Sammy… Dean turned his thoughts off. He didn't want to recall that moment he saw Sam slide to the floor right before everything changed forever.

"Yeah, like the one that killed Jim," John answered.

"Bb..but that was Meg," Sam began. "We exorcised her …sent her bb…back to hell." Sam struggled not to stutter at all, but his nerves were on edge and subsequently his words stumbled now and again.

"I'm sure it's not the same one Sammy," John answered. "Just another evil bastard that crawled its way out of hell."

"There's something else though," Dean hedged. "Right?" John looked at his son and nodded hesitantly. "What? What is it?"

"Joshua mentioned they really needed at minimum a four man team, and…" Dean looked from his father to Sam and back to his father.

"You mean Joshua asked if I could come, right?" John nodded.

"Dad, that's Kansas, that's at least a couple days away from here, and we can't leave …" Dean was cut off by his brother's voice.

"I want to go," Sam said with assertiveness.

"No way in hell Sammy," Dean answered so quickly it was as if it were a reflex. A knee jerk reaction and he never even blinked. "It's too dangerous."

"I can hunt. I haven't ff…forgotten Dean. I can do this," Sam replied. "You'll need a fifth pp…person anyway … Joshua said a minimum of ff…four, so ff…five is better."

"No Sammy," John chimed in. "Your brother is right, it's too dangerous."

"No more dangerous ff…for me than you and Dean," Sam volleyed back to his father. John's eyes were soft toward his youngest child.

"Sammy, please, you got to understand that I know you're capable, I do, but your seizures," he started. "What if you have one at a crucial moment or God forbid it's a more serious one that requires medical attention. This place is just outside Chanute in the boonies, at least a forty minute drive to the nearest medical center I won't risk your health."

"Dad's right Sammy. I know you've been working hard and say you can run and stuff, but he's right you could have a seizure."

"My meds keep them under control. They hh…haven't been bad. It's been over a month ss…since my last one," Sam answered with a hint of pride.

"And, that's great Sammy," Dean answered with an encouraging tone, "but you know that sometimes if you get worked up you set one off, and hunting is going to have you really jacked up."

"Sam," John spoke. "We can't be on this hunt and worry about whether you're going to be okay. I trust your abilities, I do, but your seizures are unpredictable."

"Nnn…not true," Sam stammered. "I ff…feel them when they are coming."

"Yeah, I know," John conceded the point. "But, the advance warning isn't much, and if it's a major seizure you have only a second or two, and you'll already be out of it and you'll be vulnerable."

"I want to go," Sam wasn't backing down.

"Look, Sammy, how about Dad and I drop you off in Lawrence and you stay with Missouri, and we'll pick you up on our way back from the hunt?" Dean offered.

"I don't nn…need a babysitter," Sam hissed.

"It wouldn't be like that," Dean offered. "You'd be going with Dad and me, but we'll just drop you off before we go to Chanute."

"Yeah, Sammy, how about that?" John asked.

"No! I can do this. Please, let mm..me."

John and Dean exchanged looks with one another. Both men knew that they couldn't leave Sam in Jefferson City, and Lawrence was apparently out of the question. They also knew they couldn't trust Sam to stay put and out of the fray. They both shook their heads in doubt and looked at the youngest member of their family.

"Fine," John answered begrudgingly. "But, you do whatever me or your brother say," John warned. "No questioning us on this hunt, understood?" Sam was beaming despite the reprimanding tone of his father's voice. "Deal?"

"Deal," Sam answered with a genuine Sam Winchester lopsided grin.

"We're serious Sammy, no questions," Dean reiterated knowing his brother's stubborn streak could and would most likely rear its ugly head no matter what the kid was agreeing to in order to appease them.

"I ss…said okay," Sam answered. "When do we go?"

"It's set up for this coming weekend," John replied. "So, we'll leave out on Thursday, and maybe we'll need Monday off the following week off, but we should have it done by Saturday and head back home late Saturday or early Sunday. Sam you'll need to miss rehab and work," John began. "You sure you're willing to miss them?"

"Almost done," Sam answered easily. "No more PT, only speech for two more weeks, and I still have my OT. And, the ll…library is flexible. I'll ask for Monday off. Yeah, I can mm…miss it."

"Fine," John said. "Dean, you should only need to ask for Thursday and Monday off, okay?"

"Yeah, Dad, I got it under control. I'll just tell Larry that we have an out of state family emergency."

"That'll work," John answered. Sam excused himself for the bathroom still wearing a smile on his face. John cast a concerned glance at Dean. "You going to be okay with this?" Dean rubbed a nervous hand over his face.

"Dammit Dad," he grumbled under his breath. "What if …"

"No what ifs Dean," John interrupted. "We'll make sure Sammy doesn't get hurt."

"But, Dad," Dean began. "We can't protect him from himself." Dean commented. He was genuinely worried that the hyper acute atmosphere of a hunt might trigger a seizure and the thought of losing his little brother to something they could have prevented scared him. "What if a bad one happens Dad? He could die."

"He'll be okay Dean."

"You really believe that?" Dean asked with worried eyes.

"I have to," John commented. "Because the alternative is unacceptable." Dean nodded in agreement.

**Wednesday, the night before leaving for Chanute**

"No April everything is fine, I promise. It's just a family thing I have to go out of town for." Dean assured on the phone. "If I get back on Sunday earlier enough do you want to get together?"

"You'll be tired," April replied. "We'll work it out. I'll miss you."

"Yeah," Dean said smiling to the phone receiver. "Me too." He felt the creep of a warm blush fill his cheeks and dissipate quickly. He was glad April couldn't see him right now.

"And, you're sure everything is okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"It's just there was something in your voice when you talked about going out of town."

"Everything is fine, April," Dean assured. He knew if they continued to see one another he had decided to share his family's secret with her, but not yet. He hated lying to her, but right now there was no other way.

"Okay, take care of yourself."

"Will do. I'll see you when I get back."

Sam sat on the edge of the tub in the bathroom with the door closed. He was nervous for the hunt. He felt like this was his chance to prove himself to his family and show them he could hunt. He didn't want to let them down, and a big part of him wanted to prove to himself that he could accomplish whatever he had to be done. He sat with his head in his hands trying to work through his rapidly cycling emotions. Sam knew if he showed one bit of nervousness toward this hunt that his brother and father would never allow him to participate. There was a loud knock on the door.

"Geez, Sammy," Dean called from outside the door. "Did you fall in?" Sam smiled slightly at his brother's words.

"Hey," Sam replied behind the still closed door. "Give me a minute. Don't get your boxers in bb…bunch." There was a long quiet moment.

"You okay?" Dean's voice was soft and concerned. Sam drew in a steadying breath looked in the mirror assuring he had the proper mask of assuredness showing and opened the door. Dean surveyed his brother for a long second or two and sniffed the air with a humorous look.

"What?" Sam asked with curious eyes. Dean snorted.

"Just takin' a whiff to see if I need to light a match," he said through a quiet laugh. Sam rolled his eyes.

"Bite me," he complained with a mild grin. Dean skirted around his brother and into the bathroom. Sam stepped into the hallway as Dean ushered him the rest of the way out.

"Not sellin' tickets man," Dean groused as he closed the door on his brother. Sam just shook his head and walked down the hallway.

"Sammy?" John's voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" Sam replied as he walked into the kitchen.

"You know it's a different ball of wax when going against a demon," John began. Sam nodded. "Bullets won't work."

"I know."

"Can you recite Latin Sam? Is your speech up to that? Honest answer," John ordered softly.

"I'm not sure," Sam answered honestly.

"Okay, fair enough. Don't worry about it we got it covered. This exorcism is a two person counter assault. Me and Jefferson can do the ritual with Joshua and Dean as back up in the event we can't finish.

**Rural area outside Chanute, Kansas**

"John are you sure Sam can do this?" Joshua asked as he looked over across to a field where Dean and Sam stood.

"I have to believe he can," John replied.

"Look John," Jefferson began. "Josh told me about what happened to you and your family," he paused and glanced over at John's sons. "And to your youngest boy. Look, don't take this wrong, but what we're up against is one damn angry demon that's moved into that old abandoned church. If he's a liability you have to pull him from the hunt." John sighed.

"My son isn't a liability. He's saved my ass and Dean's more times than I can count over the years."

"That was then and now is an entirely different story." Jefferson replied.

"My boy will be fine." John answered. He wasn't sure he actually believed what he was saying, but at least keeping Sam near himself and Dean meant they knew the boy wasn't going off half cocked because he was sneaking in on the hunt. Jefferson gave John a clipped nod.

"Okay, then," Joshua added and John motioned to his son's to come over.

"Dean, Sam you boys know the drill," John spoke evenly. "Once inside things will probably start to go down quick. Be ready." John cast a look at his youngest. "You're sure?" Sam nodded. "Alright then," John shifted his eyes to his eldest child an unspoken command transferring between them _watch out for Sammy_ and Dean nodded. "Let's do this," John asserted and turned toward the old church.

The abandoned church was miles from nowhere. The church itself had been vacant since the fifties and was mostly a run down dilapidated old wooden church. In its hay day had been a real bible thumping church where its parishioners would claim to speak in tongues and even used snakes in their services. Over the years the church had passed on from zealot preacher to another, and finally when the small town that had been just down the road a couple miles was wiped out from a tornado and never rebuilt the area just grew over to fields and pastures, but the church remained.

The hunters entered the church in a flanking deployment and Dean kept Sam close. "Keep frosty Sammy," Dean's eyes were intense.

Suddenly the room erupted into a cacophony of light and sound. "Show yourself!" Jefferson demanded. "The unclean cannot trespass on holy ground," he barked. The church fell into an eerie silence. The only sounds to be heard were the hunters breathing and the creaking wood sounds of the old church.

"Really I hadn't noticed?" A figure emerged from a doorway. The demon sauntered into the room immediately locating every hunter as he gauged their threat. John and the others looked at the demon there was something different about his demeanor and appearance. The sallow skin and blazing eyes shifting from red to a vibrant green flaming out into a yellow spray told him all he needed to know. This was not a man possessed, but a demon in his true form. And John realized in a moment of horrifying clarity that Joshua's information had been incomplete.

"Shit!" John hissed. "He's in true form," he shouted. Jefferson began throwing chrism oil, and Joshua began the first part of the ritual. The hunters had quickly changed their tactics. There would be no exorcism, but a banishing. The words of Latin burned the demon and it hissed.

"I grow tired of this," he complained. "I will pick you all clean. I will tear your souls a part," he bellowed.

"Stay back Sammy," Dean ordered.

"Dean," Sam began. Dean turned intense eyes to his brother.

"Dammit Sam you gave your word," Dean barked under his breath. "You follow orders. Stay here," Dean commanded before he entered the fray. "Cover me," he whispered as he reluctantly left his little brother. Sam gave quick nod, and raised the sawed off shotgun loaded with rock salt and cat's eyes shells. It would hurt or kill a demon, but it would slow it down for a minute, maybe.

Jefferson and Joshua recited their passages quickly and just as Joshua was about to deliver the final passage to banish the evil back to hell the demon stared them all down.

The demon leveled a hard look on the hunters flanking him. There words had him bound to the place he stood, and he couldn't disappear at will, and he was furious. "You stupid humans," it spat. "You have me bound to where I stand, but you do not have me bound," it said with a laugh, and suddenly there was an expansive invisible shock wave of energy that blasted the hunters and sent them flying with force against the distant walls. Sam had dropped and stayed close to the floor and when he raised his head he saw the crumpled and unmoving bodies of his family and the other hunters. Sam crawled toward the book Joshua had been reading from and grabbed it. The demon was struggling to leave his spot. "I will kill you all!" It screamed. "I will take pleasure in ending your insignificant lives with my own hands rather than my mind."

"Not so fast," Sam warned as he stood up from behind an old broken pew. The demon eyed Sam with an estimating gaze and then awareness dawned.

"You," the demon ground out. "There is no escaping your destiny," it hissed. Sam stared at the demon.

"You're not him," Sam answered with confidence.

"No, but I know what you and the others were meant for. You are no threat to him."

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not," Sam hedged. "But you," he smiled wryly at the demon. "Are another story. I won't ll…let you hurt my family." He didn't have time to dwell on the demons earlier words about his destiny. Sam threw a pouch of herbs and oil at the demon and watched as it landed at the demons feet. It would bind his powers for a few seconds and that was all Sam needed. He steeled himself and looked at the passage that needed finished. He took a breath and calmed himself. The words had to be right or it would cost him his family's lives. "_Attrahendum eos, ad constringendum, ad ligandum eos partier et solvendum_."

"You little bastard!" The demon screamed as a strong wind filled the church and red smoke swirled around the demon opening a vortex of blackness that smelled of sulfur. A hot wind buffeted against Sam. The whirlwind gained in power and with a massive release of energy as it consumed the demon the wave hit Sam and he was thrown across the room his head clipping a pew on his way down sending him into unconsciousness, and it was over. There was the smell of ozone in the air as Dean surfaced toward the waking world with a groan.

"Dean?" John's voice was scratchy as he called out to his son lying next to him. Joshua and Jefferson were climbing to their feet. Both men were bleeding from various scratches. Jefferson had small laceration on his forehead. John helped Dean up. Both were still fuzzy on what had happened.

"I didn't finish," Joshua spoke. "It knocked us all out before I could, but…" The hunters saw and smelled the tell tale signs of a successful banishment. "But who…"

"Sammy," Dean breathed out with a smile as he met his father's eyes. "Sammy finished it while we were knocked out." John smiled and nodded. It was in that moment that all the men looked at each other and quickly surmised they were a man short.

"Sam!" John barked. "Son? Where are you?" The men began to fan out in search of the youth.

"Sammy! Answer us!" Dean yelled and pleaded all at once. Dean watched his father moving through the room quickly on the opposite side of the room doing an obvious search grid. The other two hunters fanned out in their own grid pattern and Dean did the same. While all the men called out for Sam as they looked. Dean saw his father abruptly stop and a look of anguish cross his face. "Dad?" Dean's voice was a mere whisper. He saw his father take off at a run and he followed suit. His father disappeared behind a short wall partition just beyond a row of broken pews. "Dad!" Dean called out as he rounded the corner and stopped instantly. His father was cradling his little brother's head gently, too gently, and tears were cascading down his cheeks.

Dean stared at his little brother's lax, pale face. There was a thick sheen of blood covering the left side of Sam's face. "Sammy, can you hear me?" John's voice shook. Dean covered the small distance and fell at his brother's side.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was panicked. "Is he breathing?" John was bending close putting the side of his face against his baby boy's mouth and nose. He waited for the feeling of his precious son's breath. Dean felt his stomach knot as he watched his father. John let out a quivering sigh.

"He's breathing." John assured.

"Here John, let me look at him," Joshua put his hand on his friend's shoulder. John complied knowing that Joshua was a well trained paramedic in his daily life when he wasn't hunting. And, just as Joshua kneeled over Sam they all saw the young man begin to stir, but his eyes remained closed. "Sam, its Josh can you here me?" He pulled a penlight out of his back pocket, "Knew this keychain pen light would come in handy some day," he offered trying to lighten the mood any way he could. He lifted each of Sam's eyelids and watched the young man's pupils react to the light beam. "Sam? Can you hear me?" There was still no response or additional movement from Sam.

"Come on Sammy," Dean spoke suddenly. "Open your eyes kiddo." Dean stared at his unmoving brother.

"Josh?" John's simple use of his name spoke volumes to the hunter.

"His pupils are equal and reacting John and that's a good sign. His pulse is strong and his breathing is a little shallow, but it's regular. He's got a good gash at his hairline," he said as he gently pushed away Sam's bangs covered and matted in blood. "Maybe seven to ten stitches," he observed. "Head wounds bleed a lot John you know that," Joshua encouraged. He knew his assurance wouldn't really help his friend who was a worried parent. "Sam?" Joshua tried once more to elicit some response from the young man, but still nothing happened. "Okay, sorry Sam, but I gotta do this," Joshua said quietly. He took his knuckles and vigorously rubbed Sam's sternum, and he watched Sam frown and unconsciously try to move away from the pain the sternum rub caused. "That's it kiddo, come on," Joshua replied. He rubbed Sam's sternum again and this time he groaned and his eyes began to flicker.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was excited by his brother's movements.

"Son? Open your eyes," John leaned over his child. "Sammy, its Dad, open your eyes."

Sam surfaced slowly and opened his eyes to see Joshua looming over him. He quickly sought out his family's whereabouts as he turned his head slightly and he met eyes his father's tear filled eyes that looked extremely relieved. And, before he could look for his big brother he heard his voice. "Sammy?" Dean said excitedly as he moved closer to his little brother grabbing his hand and squeezing.

"Dean?"

"Right here kiddo," he assured. John moved nearer to both his son's and gently touched his son's right cheek that bared no blood. Joshua reached into his duffel he had carried into the old church and pulled out a gauze pad and applied it to Sam's forehead.

"He's gonna need stitches John and maybe a CAT scan to be on the safe side." John nodded.

"I'm okay," Sam spoke quietly. His voice sounding tired. "It's gg…gone. I Dd…did it?" John and Dean both smiled.

"Yeah, wonder boy you did it," Dean said proudly. "Saved our asses."

"You did good son." John smiled proudly at his youngest child.

"Yeah, Sam," Jefferson finally spoke. "I underestimated you, and I apologize. Of course, you saved our asses," he mused. "You're a Winchester," he replied bluntly.

"Thanks Sam," Joshua chimed in. "But, I think we better get you looked at and the nearest hospital isn't exactly next door." He went to help sit the boy up, but was politely edged out by Dean and John as they both put an arm around Sam and helped him stand. Both men supported Sam on either side as then began to walk out of the church and down the long dusty driveway to where the cars waited.

Joshua and Jefferson followed close behind and couldn't help, but observe the tight family unit's bond with one another.

"You doin' okay Sammy?" John asked as they made slow progress toward the cars in the distance.

"Yeah," Sam answered quietly. Dean squeezed around Sam's waist just a little more and Sam turned his head slightly and smiled at his brother. "I bet your gg…glad I didn't ff…follow orders and stay put this time, eh?" Dean just rolled his eyes at his little brother.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

"Boys."

**To Be Continued**

**Well, I'm still pretty confident I can get this done in two more chapters, so hopefully that doesn't change. I don't foresee any reason for it too. Thanks for sticking with the story, so far. I appreciate it and for taking the time to review. **

**Read and Review!**


	27. All That We Can't Leave Behind

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** The response to chapter 26 was very positive. Thank you for all of the reviews. I guess we're getting down to the wire, so to speak. One more chapter to go if all goes as planned. Thanks again for sticking with it since the beginning. And, remember a review is a fanfiction writer's only payment!

**Side Note:** a segment from _The Book of Common Prayer; the Burial of the Dead, Interment_ is used in the beginning of this story. And, just get through the first couple beginning paragraphs … things aren't as they seem.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**All That We Can't Leave Behind**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?"_ excerpt from W.B. Yeats, _The Second Coming_

The minister stood at the grave sight as a cold wind whipped across the open cemetery. "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the minister threw a handful of dirt into the open grave and indicated to the family to do the same. The minister began his final words, "in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through Lord Jesus Christ. Amen"

Dean felt numb. It had all gone so wrong, so quickly. He stared into the open grave and wanted desperately to crawl in and wait for the rest of the dirt to cover him up with his little brother. He couldn't leave Sammy in the cold earth alone. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and he resisted it, "Dean, son," John's voice was soft like a gentle spring breeze. He resisted still transfixed on the grave, Sam's grave. "Dean," the voice a little more insistent and he felt his shoulder being shaken. Dean snapped awake in the plastic chair of the Chanute Community Hospital ER waiting room. The remnants of the nightmare had left Dean a bit disorientated. He wasn't at his brother's grave, he hadn't lost Sam.

"Dad?" Dean looked at him blearily.

"Yeah, son it's me. You were dreaming. You okay?" John surveyed his oldest child.

"Yeah, just a bad dream," Dean looked around. "Any word on Sammy yet?" John smiled.

"The doctor came out about ten minutes ago, and they're stitching his forehead now. The CAT scan was clear, but they want to keep him over night for observation because of his prior head injury history. They've all ready contacted Dr. Myers and relayed his test results to her. Sam's going to be fine." John assured with a warm smile.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Dean snipped. He would have liked to hear the doctor's words with his own ears. Dean could see that Joshua and Jefferson were still nearby.

"Well, at the time you were sleeping peacefully and I didn't want to disturb you. They'll let us see Sammy once they get him settled in a room upstairs."

"Sorry I snapped at you," Dean offered with a small smile.

"It's okay. I know you're just worried about your brother."

**Later that night, Chanute Hospital, Third Floor**

John and Dean flanked each side of Sam's bed. The youngest member of their family had been awake earlier, but had fallen asleep two hours ago. "So," Dean began keeping his voice low. "Joshua and Jefferson went to a motel?"

"Yeah," John answered. "They wanted to make sure Sam was okay, and said they'd call in the morning to see if they were releasing him as scheduled."

"What time did the doctor say he'd sign Sammy's walking papers?" Dean asked.

"Around 9," John answered casually as he reached up and gently stroked Sam's hand resting along his side on top of the pale blue blanket covering him.

They sat in silence for a while listening to the sound of Sam's heart monitor. "They really need all this junk?" Dean motioned toward the monitors and the IV.

"The doc said it was standard equipment for the Observation unit," he replied. "I hate seeing the stuff too, but he's gonna be fine. "And the IV is just to hydrate him. Sammy will be out of here tomorrow and we can go home." Dean nodded at his father and shifted his eyes to his little brother's sleeping form. Sam stirred and opened his eyes. Dean and John both leaned forward. "Sammy?" Dean's voice was anxious. His brother turned his head and looked at his big brother.

"Hey," his voice was soft. Dean smiled.

"Hey kiddo," John spoke. "You feelin' okay? You're not in any pain are you?" Sam smiled at the concerned face of his father.

"I'm fine," he replied quietly as he stifled a small yawn. "I get out of hh…here tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," John confirmed.

"Get some more sleep Sammy," Dean chimed in.

"Not tt…tired," Sam said around another yawn. Both Dean and John chuckled low.

"Sure Sammy whatever you say," Dean replied with an amused look on his face.

**Mid-morning, Chanute Hospital Lobby**

"I cc…can walk Dad," Sam complained to his father as an orderly pushed them toward the automatic doors.

"I know Sammy, but its hospital policy," he offered. As soon as they were outside Sam was allowed to stand and walk on his own. Dean followed a couple minutes later.

"Sorry," he offered as he walked up to his family. "Just taking care of some paperwork." John nodded knowing Dean was handling the health coverage aspect of Sam's care and overnight stay. "So, how we doin' this?" Dean asked. "I mean we both have our cars here."

"Yeah, you and Sammy can go together," John began. "And follow me. We're going to meet Joshua and Jefferson for a late breakfast before we all go our own way. They're meeting us up the street at a diner called, _Tip O' the Town_. Dean and Sam both exchanged looks and laughed. "Yeah, I know, but you know small towns," John mused.

"Let's get out of hh…here," Sam eagerly replied.

"Yeah, let's get out of here." Dean motioned his head in the direction of the Emergency Room parking lot where they had parked the previous night.

**A Month and a Half Later, March 2009**

Sam had opted not to take classes this quarter, and was nearing the end of his OT assignment at the campus and had the day off. Sam still attended his OT rehab on Fridays, but had finished with PT and speech rehab during January and February respectively. His father had come home from work about an hour ago and was filling out checks for the cable and phone bill in the kitchen. Dean wasn't expected home after work. He was going to April's to wash up and they had plans. Sam sat at his laptop surfing the net. He idly rubbed the bridge of his nose. The pressure headache that had begun a few moments ago was getting worse. The white hot pain was blossoming behind his eyes. His eyesight began to flash like an electrical storm, and he knew a vision was coming. "Dad!" Sam managed to bark as he clung to his desk. The vision was coming on slow and the pain was intensifying.

John heard his son's urgent sounding call and he left the kitchen table running. "Sam!" John ran into his son's room just in time to see Sam begin to sag to the floor. He supported him easily against himself as he lowered them both to the ground. "Sammy what is it?"

"Vision," Sam panted. "Cc…coming." And then Sam was swallowed by the pain. John held his son against his chest as Sam went limp in his arms when the vision finally settled into his mind. John watched his young son's face and hated the blank, unseeing eyes of his child. It was as if Sam wasn't there anymore and had left just his shell behind. It was unnerving to John Winchester. He had never seen a vision before and idly wondered how Dean had managed not to lose his mind the first time he saw his brother have one. He stared at Sam's pupils widely dilated like they were in a dark room trying to see in the shadows. He watched them dilate back to a more normal diameter and he saw Sam blink lazily as he surfaced from the vision. John rubbed a nervous hand across Sam's forehead pushing away small beads of sweat. He caressed Sam's bangs back nervously.

"Sammy? Can you here me, its dad." John waited. "Sam?"

"Dad?" Sam's voice had this confused tone to it and he looked blearily up to his father. He focused on John's face.

"Yeah, it's me," John assured softly. "You okay?"

"Fire dad," Sam answered with an absent tone to his voice. John could see Sam's eyes were distant his son's mind was trying to recollect what he had seen.

"Fire? What fire? Where?" John asked in rapid succession. Sam didn't respond. "Sammy? What fire?" He gently patted his son's face.

"Nursery." Sam whispered. "Dad?" Sam tried to sit up, but he knew what he was feeling as it started in his fingertips. "Seizure coming," he whispered as he gave up trying to sit up and relaxed into his father's embrace. John quickly lowered Sam further down on the floor and loosely held his son's head as he supported it in his lap.

"It's okay Sammy," John encouraged. "I'm here. It's gonna be okay." The seizure came and soon half of Sam's body was engulfed in waves of jerking spasms that seemed to make one whole side of his young body taut as a pulled rubber band and then release only to tighten again. John tried to gently turn his son partially onto his non-seizing side as the seizure continued. Sam's head bucked as his neck muscles contracted. "It's okay," John whispered over and over, the words becoming a mantra. It felt like forever as the seizure began to slow. Sam's cheeks were flushed and the red looked shocking against his pale, sweat sheen covered face. His eyes looked pained. There were tremors working through Sam's body and his father never wavered. He held his son and kept speaking to him in that familiar calm and warm voice.

"Starting again," Sam hissed through a clenched jaw. "some … wrong," his words broke as he tried to warn his father.

"Again? Sam?" John held his son just as he had been with his head in his lap. "Sammy?"

"Bad," was all Sam got out before another seizure started just as the former one had ebbed down to quiet tremors.

"Oh Christ!" John hissed. His son was in trouble. "Sammy!" John urgently yet gently pulled himself out from under his son making sure he wouldn't thrash into something and hurt himself. He grabbed for the phone in a panic as he watched Sam's whole body begin to seize and his eyes roll back into his head.

_911, What's your emergency?_

"My son. He's having a seizure. I need an ambulance. Now!"

_Sir, is he still actively seizing?_

"Yes, dammit. He has a seizure disorder caused by a head injury that happened a year ago. Please hurry!"

_The ambulance has been dispatched. Sir, what disorder does he suffer? _

"Jacksonian seizures, but this isn't one of them." John watched horrified. "Oh, God, his lips, they're starting to turn blue!"

_Sir, is he still seizing?_

"Yes! I need help, now!" John heard the ambulance pull up outside. "They're here," he shouted and slammed the phone down.

**Capitol Region Medical Center, Emergency Room, Three Hours Later**

John hated this part the most, waiting. Sam had been whisked into a trauma room as soon as they arrived at the hospital. John had followed in his truck. His mind was reeling over everything. _These damn visions are going to kill my boy_ his mind spat. It seemed that both times now that Sam had had a vision since his accident that they either triggered or made a small seizure far more worse. His mind was also replaying what his son had mentioned of the vision before the seizure. _Fire _and _nursery_ two words that did not bode well and John felt a cold pit in his stomach. But, right now he didn't care about the content of the vision he was only worried about his baby son.

"Mr. Winchester," John looked up and stood instantly. The doctor extended his hand. "I'm Dr. Savage, I'm the on call neurologist replacing Dr. Kendrick while he's on sabbatical. John was remotely relieved that Dr. Kendrick wouldn't be Sam's physician. He offered his hand and a firm handshake.

"Doctor, how is my boy?"

"Stable. The paramedics were able to stop the seizure with medication at the scene which is good. They reported he was experiencing apnea during his seizure."

"Apnea?"

"Oh, it means he stopped breathing while he was seizing," he paused. "In a sense he was holding his breath. That's why his lips were turning blue."

"He's okay now though, right?"

"I have him on some oxygen right now via a mask, but I assure you he is breathing on his own. I looked at his rather extensive medical file we have on your son and I have taken the liberty to call and relay his latest seizure episode to his on file neurologist Dr. Rose Myers."

"Thank you. What about Sam though?"

"Well, I don't need to tell you that what he experienced wasn't a Jacksonian seizure. Perhaps, it may have begun as such, but obviously turned into a life threatening event. I have on file that he has experienced only one other major seizure in the past is that true?"

"Yes, my oldest son told me he had one when I was in the hospital a few months ago, and they kept him for a couple days for observation, but he's been good lately." John paused. "He hit his head back in January in a fall and was unconscious for a few minutes. We had him looked at by a hospital and they kept him over night … that didn't cause this did it?"

"No," the doctor assured with a mild smile. "This is an organic problem caused by his previous traumatic brain injury. This isn't anyone's fault."

"Is he conscious?"

"In and out. It's not uncommon for a patient to be altered or sleepy after a major seizure. He was able to respond physically to verbal commands, but he drifted off again." John nodded.

"May I see him?"

"I'm having a couple tests run and once I get a new MRI we'll be sending him up to the ICU for the night and barring any complications myself and his neurologist Dr. Myers would like to have him moved to the Neurology unit for further observation and to see about adjusting his meds and quite possibly his dosing schedule. Dr. Myers will be in tomorrow morning to assess Sam herself. If you want to wait upstairs in the family waiting room for ICU they will send a nurse to come get you when you can see him."

"Thank you," John shook the doctor's hand. John looked at his watch as he walked to the elevator to go wait upstairs. He hoped it wouldn't be another three hours before he saw his son again.

**Later that Night, April's Apartment**

"I enjoyed dinner tonight," she whispered as she snuggled close to Dean. "Who would have ever thought you'd even know about a place like the _Parisian Bistro_."

"Hey," Dean quipped as he ran a hand through her hair. "I'm what you'd call a Renaissance Man." April laughed out loud.

"Maybe, in your own mind," she laughed. "Do you even know what that means?" Her eyes were watering from the laughter. Dean turned red and she laughed louder. He pouted. "Oh, poor baby," she cooed as she moved her self up into his lap on the couch. "Forgive me I didn't mean it," her voice was amused. "Forgive?"

"I will for one thing," he answered with a mischievous grin as he tapped his lips. She smiled.

"I think I can oblige." They kissed and pretty soon everything else was forgotten.

**Later that night, 9:30 PM … ICU, Sam's Room **

John sat at his son's side holding his hand and stroking his hair. He was speaking nonsense words to him as he waited for him to open his eyes. Two IV bags hung beside the bed and dropped steady pre-programmed drops of fluids and meds into his son. Sam's heart monitor beeped quietly and steady. His pulse-OX meter showed good oxygen levels. Sam's oxygen mask had been replaced by a nasal cannula. John thought the pale green tubing running under his son's nose and across his cheeks made Sam's pale skin look even paler. "Geez, Sammy," John whispered to his son's silent features. "You're aging your old dad by the decades with each trip to the hospital. And, your brother…" John's words died off quickly as he realized that he had forgotten to call Dean. "Shit," he complained under his breath. "I forgot to call your brother Sammy. I'll be right back son." John hovered over Sam a moment and stepped outside of the ICU. He hated the rule about no cell phone calls in the ICU because of equipment, but it made sense, so he complied. He pulled out his cell phone and filed through names and highlighted his son's name and pushed send.

**April's Apartment**

Dean and April fit perfectly together under the soft sheets. Dean had pulled her against himself spooning her back. "This is nice," she whispered.

"Yeah," he answered softly into the back of her head and pulled her a little closer. The sound of his cell phone ringing made Dean sigh … "Can you reach it 'Pril?" Dean asked using the shortened version of her name he had one day nicknamed her with.

"Sure," she answered easily as she reached out in front of her to the nightstand and grabbed the phone and handed it to Dean. They shifted against each other as Dean looked at the caller ID. She curled up against his chest as he turned over on his back. He frowned when he saw the name on the screen, 'Dad' blinked in unison with the ringing.

"Dad?" Dean answered.

"Yeah, son it's me," John sounded tired and stressed.

"What is it? What's wrong?" April felt Dean's chest and arm muscles tense under her.

"It's Sammy Dean we're at the hospital," John's voice remained steady. "He had a bad seizure."

"Oh God," Dean answered sitting up. "Dad?" Dean asked when the line had been quiet for what he thought was too long.

"I'm here. Dean I would have called sooner, but I lost track of time and I…"

"It's okay Dad, I understand. I'm on my way," Dean replied as he put his legs over the edge of the bed.

"We're in the ICU," John answered. "Dean…"

"Yeah?" Dean didn't like the sound of his father's voice.

"He had another vision." John said bluntly into the phone. Dean closed his eyes for a moment.

"I'll be there soon Dad. Tell Sammy I'm on my way."

"See you soon son," John replied. "Drive safely."

"I will." Dean snapped his phone shut and stood up to get dressed.

"Dean, what's wrong?"

"Sammy had a bad seizure. That was my Dad. Sam's in the ICU."

"Are you in any shape to drive?" April asked as she wrapped a sheet around her loosely while she sat up.

"I'm good. I'm sorry about …" Dean looked at her.

"Oh, Dean honey, it's your little brother. And anyway last time I checked a sick little brother trumps a girlfriend any day of the week," she smiled as she climbed up on her knees to touch him as he stood in front of her.

"Thanks 'Pril I'll call when I can, okay?" he said hastily as he grabbed his wallet and cell phone stuffing both into his denim jacket. He turned to leave and stopped at the door. He turned quickly and approached her gave her a quick peck, "love you," hurried out of his mouth and he was gone. April sat dumbfounded at his words. She mulled those two words over and over in her head. _Did he just say 'love you'_ her mind reeled. She smiled.

**ICU, Sam's Room**

Traffic hadn't been bad, and Dean made record time from April's apartment. He walked into the ICU unit and saw Sue. "Hi Sue."

"Hi Dean, long time no see," Sue answered with a smile. "Sam's in that room there," she pointed. "Your father is with him. Sam's resting comfortably."

"Thanks." Dean hurried to his brother's room. It was the room he had been in over a year ago when he'd suffered his brain injury. Dean felt a wave of cold run through him as the memory threatened to consume him. "Dad?" Dean whispered as he walked into the room and met his father's eyes.

"Hi son."

"How's he doing?" Dean asked as he stood over Sam and looked down at his little brother. He looked over the equipment around his brother and frowned at the oxygen tubing.

"He's stable. I've been waiting for him to wake up, but so far nothing." Dean cast a worried look at his father.

"Did he wake up in the ER?"

"The doctor said he was in and out, but he responded to verbal commands. He said he may sleep for a while." Dean let out a sigh and looked behind himself and hooked the leg of a nearby chair with his foot and pulled it closer and sat down beside his little brother.

"How bad was it Dad?"

"The doctor said it was a major seizure. His lips were turning blue at home, but the seizure wouldn't stop. The paramedics got it under control with some IV meds, and they had to bag him with some oxygen, and he started breathing on his own again right away." John ran a nervous hand though his hair. "It scared the shit out of me Dean. There wasn't anything I could do for him during the worst of it." Dean smiled sympathetically at his father.

"I know how you feel." He commented. "Dad, what happened though? You said he had a vision," Dean asked in a hushed tone.

"I was in the kitchen and he called out for me. I held him through the vision, but as soon as it was over he had a Jacksonian seizure on the left side of his body, but as soon as it was going away he looked at me and barely had time to warn me that another one was coming. He knew it was going to be bad." John's eyes looked haunted as he recounted the evening's events.

"Did he have time to tell you about the vision?" Dean studied his father's serious look at the question. "What was it about?"

"He only got out two words," John hedged for a moment. "Fire and nursery." Dean's eyes shifted from his father's to rest on his brother's silent features. His face conveyed to John the level of concern Dean was feeling, and he understood it because he felt it too.

**Two Hours Later**

"I think he's waking up," Dean commented with excitement. John leaned forward resting a hand on one of Sam's blanket covered legs. "Sammy?" Dean said softly. Both men watched as the youngest member of their family opened his eyes. Sam looked from his brother to his father. He lifted his hand and looked at the IV needle inserted in the back of his hand. He blinked and scanned the room idly.

"Hh… hospital?" he croaked. John stood up to get a glass of water for his son's dry throat.

"Yeah, Sammy," Dean answered as he helped to raise Sam's head while supporting it with his hand to help him drink from the cup his father was now holding to his brother's lips. "Slow sips," he encouraged. Sam took a couple grateful drinks of the cool liquid and pulled back indicating he was done for now.

"Thanks," he whispered to both his family members. They both smiled warmly at Sam.

"How you feelin' kiddo?" John asked as he reached up touched his youngest son's face.

"Tired," he answered honestly. His eyes suddenly widened as he remembered. "Vision, I hh…had a vision."

"I know," John answered. "What do you remember?"

"Too late now," his voice sounding broken.

"Maybe not Sammy," Dean hedged. "Dad said you mentioned fire and a nursery. There might be time. It might be days away from happening," Dean encouraged.

Sam went on to explain that the only remnants of the vision that remained with him were of the fire, the nursery, a crib and the demon watching a small child in its crib. He described a flash of a driveway and a car with Montana plates YTR 2470. "That's all I cc…can remember." John smiled.

"That's more than enough Sammy." John exchanged looks with his oldest son and Dean nodded.

"I'll stay with Sammy while you make some phone calls." John nodded as he stood. He reached down and ran a hand affectionately through Sam's hair and left. Dean turned his gaze back to his brother. "Get some more sleep Sammy," he urged.

"I don't rr…remember the seizure Dean," Sam began. "Not the second one. Bad, huh?"

"Yeah, you scared the crap out of Dad. Me too," he answered honestly.

"Sorry," Sam replied quietly.

"Sammy don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I know," Sam answered with a smile. "I meant … I'm sorry Dad hh…had to bother you at April's." Dean smiled at his brother's knowing grin.

"She understood. Now get some sleep." He watched his brother close his eyes and soon his breathing was evened out in sleep. Dean's mind recounted his parting words with April _love you_, he drummed his fingers nervously on the arm of his chair. He had meant the words, but was only now feeling the impact of saying them. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous movement he had never been able to break himself of in all these years, and with a smile he thought _like father like son_ as he remembered his own dad did the same thing.

Dean looked at his watch and noted his father had left to make phone calls over thirty minutes ago. John seemed to walk in as if on cue. "I was wondering about you," Dean whispered to his father being mindful not to wake his brother.

"I called Joshua and had him check some things out," John's tone was hushed in the dimly lit hospital room.

"And?" Dean knew that look in his father's eyes. "Something is up isn't it? The Demon?"

"It seems there were some cattle deaths reported just yesterday in a city in Montana, and there have been strange weather fluctuations the last couple days or so. And, the license plate Sammy saw in his vision checked out." John pulled a folded scrap piece of paper out of his jeans pocket. "It's registered to a Trevor and Crystal Breems. And, Joshua looked in the state online records for Cascade county birth records and it looks like they recently had a third child, a boy, who will be six months old in four days."

"Where in Montana?"

"Eden." Dean and John exchanged knowing looks as the irony of the town's name wasn't lost on them.

"Four days, huh?" Dean exchanged a concerned look with his father. "What are you going to do?"

"Joshua has some contacts in Montana he's going to try to figure something out, but…"

"But, you think you need to go, right? I mean, you've got the Colt and the last bullet."

"Dean I'm not gonna leave to go anywhere with Sammy just getting out of the hospital in a day or so." His tone was one of defense.

"Dad, I'm not accusing you of anything," Dean assured. "Look I don't want another family to go through the same hell we did, and Sammy will understand. He's gonna be fine dad. He and I have been up this seizure road before. It's okay. He's going to be fine."

"But, Dean?"

"Dad, it's okay." Dean offered a slight smile. He nodded his head in his brother's direction. "You know he doesn't even remember the second seizure," he commented.

"He doesn't?"

"Nope, just the first one and the fragments of the vision he had. I really don't even think he remembers anything from the ER to tell you the truth." John looked concerned and Dean offered him a comforting look. "It's okay Dad. You should have seen him after the first bad seizure. When he finally came to he was screaming and yelling for me and Dr. Myers said he was altered and stuff."

"That's when he told you he had a vision about me, right? The one that saved my life?" Dean nodded. "Son, I'm worried about these visions of his," John reached up and placed his hand on Sam's forearm. "Will they all cause seizures? This can't go on."

"Dad, we'll deal okay… I mean what choice do we have? Maybe, it'll get better," Dean hedged.

"And, if they don't?" John commented. "His life could be in danger with each vision he has."

"Dammit dad," Dean hissed quietly as he stood up abruptly. "Don't you think I know that?" Dean turned and left his brother's room. John sat there shocked for a moment at his oldest son's sudden outburst and quick retreat. He stood and looked at Sam for a moment and went after his other child. John walked through the ICU unit and out into the hallway. There was no sign of Dean and John walked toward the ICU waiting room thinking Dean wouldn't go far from his little brother especially while he was in the intensive care unit. He stood in the doorway of the waiting room and quickly noticed the only occupant was his firstborn staring at the floor as he sat in a far corner chair. John entered quietly.

"Dean?" He spoke gently and Dean raised his eyes to meet his fathers. John could see the glassy eyes of his child and knew Dean was fighting tears. "Hey kiddo," John sat down and patted Dean's knee closest to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," John began. "It's just when I'm nervous I think out loud, I…"

"Don't Dad," Dean answered. "I'm the one that's sorry. I shouldn't have snapped like that, it's just…"

"It's just what?"

"Sammy Dad I can't keep him safe from this, from himself. I wasn't even there for him tonight when it happened…" John interrupted his son.

"Stop right there Dean," John replied. "This isn't your fault. And, I know you love your brother, but you're entitled to a life of your own. You can't watch him 24/7 and you know what … he doesn't want it either. You couldn't have prevented what happened." John studied his son's tormented and worried features. "You didn't let Sammy down Dean. You didn't fail your brother." Dean looked at his father suddenly and John saw it in his young eyes. That was what he needed to hear.

"I didn't?"

"No, you didn't." John affirmed boldly.

"It's just I remember the first bad one he had, and now this one," Dean's voice shook. "Dad what if it had happened and he was alone?"

"Dean we've taken just about every precaution we can with Sammy. He wears the oxygen monitor at night and I'm usually home with him or you are. He's not alone for long durations. And, Dean, son … I know this isn't something you want to hear and frankly I don't even like saying it, but we can't smother him in protection. And, maybe some day we might not be there, it's just something we're going to have to accept." Dean turned intense eyes to his father.

"Dad, don't you get it? When he has a bad seizure he stops breathing Dad … if we're not there or someone else isn't then he'll die Dad. I can't accept that Sammy could die from something we could prevent."

"Hey hold up there sport," John's voice remained gentle. "We can't prevent anything. Dean, you do know that even if he gets immediate help there is always the chance he could still die."

"I know," the admission was quiet and haunted. "I just can't imagine life without him Dad. I wish I could turn back the clock and take back all the shit that's happened to him since that night with the Demon and the wreck."

"I know, me too. Hell, I wish I could take back all the years I drug you boys all over the country demon hunting. I made you grow up too fast Dean, and I apologize." John turned sincere eyes to his son.

"It's okay Dad. It's the way it had to be."

"No, it's not okay." John replied. "I should have been there for you and Sammy a hell of a lot more than I was while you were little. I made so many mistakes. I put too much on your shoulders and you never really got the chance to be a kid. You took care of Sammy, and you took care of me. Dean, I'm so proud of you. I look at you some days and I'm amazed you're my son, and I'm so thankful."

"Dad…"

"Nah, don't say anything, okay? I meant what I said, and it's long overdue."

"Thanks dad," Dean answered with a sheepish smile. "Dad, despite everything I know and even Sammy knows … you always did the best you could when we were little."His eyes became briefly distant for a moment and John knew what was on his child's mind.

"Thinkin' about Sammy?"

"More like worrying," Dean conceded.

"Look let's stop being all maudlin over Sammy's seizure's okay? He's gonna be okay. Come on, you wanna go sit with your brother? I'll give you boys some privacy. I think I'm gonna go get a cup of caffeine." Dean smiled at his father.

"Thanks Dad."

"For what?" John looked genuinely surprised.

"Just thanks." John smiled and pulled his son into an impromptu hug, and patted him on the back as they separated.

**Sam's ICU Room**

Dean watched his brother sleep peacefully. He leaned in and spoke softly to his sibling. "Hey, Sammy, it's your big brother," he began with a hint of a smile. "Look kiddo things are gonna be okay. We'll figure out the visions and how to handle them, and if we figure out it's something we can't fix … then we'll deal with it, okay? Together as a family." Dean whispered and stroked his brother's unruly bangs. Sam stirred under his brother's gentle touch. Dean smiled as his brother's eyes opened slowly and focused on his face. "Hey," he spoke gently.

"Hey," Sam replied. He casually looked around his room. "Where's dad?"

"He went for a cup of Joe and thought he'd let us have some time."

"Dd…did he find out anything?"

"Sammy you don't need to worry about that right now," Dean urged. "You need to rest and relax."

"I did rest," Sam complained. "What did Dad ff…find out?"

"The license plate checked out and the third kid in the family turns six months old in four days, okay? Joshua is calling his contacts in Montana to try and help the family."

"Dad going?" Dean shrugged as a response. "He has tt…to go, Dean," Sam answered bluntly. "He's got the Colt. That family needs hh…help."

"And, they'll get it son," John replied from the door to Sam's room. "But, you sport need to relax, okay. There's no sense you getting all bent out of shape," John encouraged. "It won't do you any good, got it?"

"Yes, sir." Sam relented.

"Look I called Dan and I'm taking some days off," John began. "I hate to leave you boys, but you're right I gotta go."

"Let us cc…come Dad," Sam spoke quietly. John smiled warmly.

"No, son, you boys need to stay here okay? I'm not doing this alone alright? So don't worry about me."

"Dad you know we will anyway," Dean commented.

"I know. Look if there isn't a clear opportunity to kill this bastard I'm not going to use the gun, but if we can save this family I'm making that my first priority." Sam and Dean nodded.

**Three Days Later, The Winchester House**

Sam walked into the kitchen rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Hey sleeping beauty," Dean quipped. "That new seizure med still agreeing with you?" Sam nodded and opened the refrigerator. "Yeah, well after that last new one you were allergic too; just don't wait until you're hurling to say something, alright?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "So, you hear from dad?"

"He called late last night and he's okay. I guess Joshua decided to join in on the hunt."

"Who's there?"

"Dad said Carl and Tanner are gonna help."

"Who?"

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd remember them. Um, you were pretty little when they last saw you." Dean said with a grin.

"What?"

"Nothin'"

"Nah, what?" Dean chuckled.

"It's just I think you were about three when they last saw you and I remember you were going through phase of pulling your diaper off and you run around with it." Sam turned red.

"Oh God, and I dd…did that with them around."

"Yeah, you were a regular exhibitionist Sammy," Dean laughed. "Geez, I remember when you started walking on your own you would go gang busters around the house or wherever we were staying," he paused. "And, I remember Dad thought since you started walking early that you'd be easy to break of diapers, but man, you gave Dad a hard time with the potty training. You wanted nothing to do with the kiddie toilet he got you, and the regular one, well, you were more interested in putting your bathtub toys in the toilet bowl and flushing it to watch them spin."

"You take great humor in my youth … dd…don't you?"

"Can you blame me?" Dean said with a wide smile. "But, hey at least I never took any pictures of you running around naked swinging your diaper around. Well, except for that time you were streaking in the front lawn of this run down house dad rented when you were, I think four."

"Stop, please," Sam begged.

"Nah, man, it was cute. You heard Dad pull up when I was trying to give you a bath and you bolted from that tub so quick I couldn't stop you. You ran out of the house buck naked, soaking wet with a pile of baby shampoo suds on top of your head. It was priceless man."

"Kill me now." The brothers shared a laugh. "So," Sam decided to change the subject. "Larry didn't mind you taking off?"

"Nah, he's always been cool with me having time off when I need it, and he knew you were in the hospital again."

"Sorry, things gg..get ss…screwed up when my ss…seizures happen." Dean recognized the increased stuttering from his brother.

"Hey, Sammy, look it's not anything you need to apologize for. It is what it is. And, I don't want you getting upset about it, alright?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

"Why dd…don't you and April get together tonight?"

"Can't she's been taking some classes to finish another degree."

"What now? She's already does PT and ss..speech thh…therapy."

"Yeah, well, I guess she's just taking a handful of courses and a short nursing residency to allow her to take her state boards for her R.N."

"A nurse?"

"Yeah, I guess my girl is a geek academic like my little brother," Dean snorted at the irony of that. Sam smiled wide. "What?"

"You said, 'my girl.'"

"Shut up," Dean replied as his face turned red.

"Dean and April kissing in a tt…tree…" Dean swatted at Sam and then grabbed him locking him in a light head lock. Sam laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, shut your cakehole."

"She quitting her thh…therapy stuff?"

"Nah, she's still gonna do that, but I think she's going to be an ER nurse part-time. I guess she only needed a few courses after everything she's already taken for her other degrees."

"ER huh? I gg…guess I'll see her ss…sooner or later, huh?" Dean turned serious eyes to his brother.

"Not funny Sammy."

"Not a joke," Sam replied casually. "You knn…know my track record."

"Yeah, I do, but still…" Dean shook his head at his brother. "I don't want to hear you talk like that."

"Yeah," Sam decided it was pointless to say anything else. His words had pushed the big brother panic button.

**Three Days Later, Friday**

A persistent ringing pulled Dean from the haze of sleep. He opened his eyes and could see the sun hadn't even come up yet and as he reached for the phone he saw the clock clearly stated why it was still dark outside, 3:30AM. He fumbled in the dark quickly for the phone. He prayed it was his father. He and Sam hadn't heard from there father at all since the day before John and the other hunters were going to hunt the Demon in the city of Eden.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was sleep inflected and he cleared his throat. "Dad?" He asked again when there was nothing, but empty air. He heard a throat clear on the other end.

"No, Dean, it's Josh." Dean felt a wave of fear roll over him. He took a steadying breath.

"Is he alive?" Dean's voice wavered despite his best efforts to conceal his panic.

"Yeah," Josh replied. Dean heard something in his voice.

"What is it? Is he hurt? I want to talk to my dad."

"Listen Dean this gig was a complete cluster fuck, okay," Josh's voice was harsh and tired. "That evil bastard wasn't alone. He brought friends. Things went bad."

"Where's my dad!" Dean hissed into the phone.

"Johnny's all messed up," Joshua's voice sounded haunted. Dean's hand shook as it held the phone to his ear.

"Messed up? He's hurt?"

"They all cooked. The place went up like a roman candle," Joshua spoke almost absently into the phone. "The baby didn't burn. It was like he was protected from the flames long enough to be rescued, but the smoke it was bad. He wasn't breathing … the paramedics couldn't save him. They tried." Dean listened to the man continue to ramble on the phone. He just wanted to know if his father was okay. "Jesus, Dean the whole family, we lost them all. The demon and your daddy they looked right at each other through the flames. It looked like they were saying something to each other before the Demon fuckin' disappeared. Your dad couldn't get a clean shot off."

"Dammit Joshua, my dad is he alive. Is he hurt? Where the hell is he?"

"He asked me to call you." Joshua answered suddenly, as if finally coming out of his state of shock. "He's at the hospital in Eden."

"Oh, God, how bad is he hurt?"

"John? No, your daddy is fine. A little smoke inhalation, but he's fine. He's there waiting to hear about Carl," Joshua answered. "Tanner is sitting with him. I'm outside in the parking lot. I just got here. Had to talk to the police, you know how it goes … cover stories. They wanted a second interview. No worries."

"So, he's not admitted or anything?" Dean needed to clarify that his dad wasn't hurt physically.

"No, he's fine. I think he's just still a little too messed up to talk to you, but he wanted you to know he's okay and he'll call you soon."

"But, he's late calling anyway. How long has he been at the hospital? I mean you guys were due for the hunt on Wednesday night. It's Friday."

"Yeah, well, okay," Joshua conceded. "Your daddy was unconscious for most of Wednesday night after the hunt and most of Thursday morning. He had some smoke inhalation, so they kept him for observation, and believe me as soon as he woke up he wanted me to call you because he couldn't. Look sorry I took until today. It's just Carl is in a bad way, and we've all been preoccupied." Josh took a pause. "Believe me when John found out I hadn't called you yet he was pissed, but he left his phone back at the motel we were all holding up in and he hasn't gone back there yet."

"Tell him to call home when he can Josh."

"Yeah, will do. He wanted me to ask you how you and you're brother were doing? Things okay?"

"Yeah, tell him we're fine."

"Okay, good deal. I'm sure he'll have his phone later today when he finally leaves the hospital. Carl is touch and go. They say his lungs were really damaged in the fire, and you know your daddy and Carl go way back." Dean nodded to himself. He did know. John and Carl had been friends for years and had hunted side by side for many hunts.

**Two Weeks Later**

The Winchester house had been quiet. John had returned over a week ago after making sure Carl's family was okay after that funeral. He hadn't said much since his return other than to assure his son's he was feeling okay physically. He had gone back to work at the garage, but Dean knew his father was troubled. Sam did too, but oddly enough he had been giving his father space since his return and Sam hadn't been full of questions like Dean had expected. Sam had gone to Ivy Ridge today via the bus because he said he had a check-up and he just wanted to do it on his own. John and Dean both were reluctant to let him go that far, but Sam was entitled to his independence, and they let him.

"Dad?" Dean walked into the kitchen where his Dad was sitting at the table with his journal and he was writing in it. John looked up at his son when he heard him call his name.

"Yeah, son."

"You writing?"

"I just wanted to update some contact names and numbers that's all."

"Dad? You okay?" John studied his son.

"Not yet, but I will be," he answered honestly. "It's just I'm so tired of losing friends and people we care about. First Jim and then Caleb … now Carl. He shouldn't be gone, and I'm pissed." Dean nodded solemnly.

"Dad," Dean's voice was hesitant. "Uh…"

"What is it?"

"You know when Joshua called he told me how bad things had gone, but he mentioned that he thought he saw you and the demon say something to one another through the flames. Did you?" John looked away suddenly with haunted eyes.

"He shouldn't have said anything," John finally spoke after a long silence.

"But, he did," Dean replied. "What was said?" John shook his head.

"It's not important."

"Bullshit."

"Watch your language Dean," John chastised lightly.

"Dad, please…" Dean's voice sounded desperate and afraid. John met his son's eyes.

"Fine," John answered quietly as he let out a slow breath.

**Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

"So, Sam," Lena Salvino, his social worker leaned back in her desk chair. "I see Dr. Myers gave you flying colors on your check-up."

"Yeah, I guess the lesion isn't any ww…worse," Sam replied.

"Now, what's this about you wanting to see if you can get into New Horizons? I mean, you're with your family it's a good situation, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's just I thh…think my dad and brother might have to go out of tt…town soon, and I don't want to hold them back." Sam's mind recalled the past couple weeks, and he just knew that things were going to be changing, and he thought that his brother should be with their dad, and he also knew that Dean would never leave him alone. So, he was trying to cover his bases before talking to his family. Sam was certain that the demon was less of a threat if John and Dean were back together as a unit. He knew he could hunt, but he feared having a vision at the wrong moment that could put his family in danger and he wasn't going to risk them.

"They might have to leave soon? Is everything alright?"

"Just a ff…family emergency that may take a while to resolve … thh…that's all."

"You're sure you want to be in a residential facility? I mean New Horizons is very modern and you can come and go, it's just…." she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "You'd have your own one bedroom apartment, but…"

"Lena, it's the only way mm…my ff…family would go. They're afraid of my seizures."

"Well, I understand their fear. Dr. Myers updated me while you were in the hospital just recently after your last episode." Sam nodded. "New Horizons does have an emergent care facility with full-time medical staff to stabilize any resident for transport to the medical center."

"Yeah"

"Sam based on your seizure disorder they'd supply you with a _First Alert_ device to wear while in your apartment. Are you familiar with it?"

"I think so … it's that thh…thing old people wear where they press a button for help, right?"

Lena smiled. "Yes, it's very similar; in fact they bare the same name, but the setup is a little different. But, when you feel a seizure coming on, or you're not feeling quite right you'll press the button and help will come to you. Also, because of the evening concerns with seizures they'd have you on satellite telemetry monitoring at night to make sure you don't stop breathing."

"Just ll…like home with dad and Dean?"

"Well, basically, only with satellite telemetry you'll hook up as usual, but the unit they'll give you sends out a remote signal to the telemetry station and provides them your oxygen levels and warns them should you stop breathing for a period longer than twenty-seconds."

"Could I get in there? Is there space?"

"You qualify. I'd have to check to see the waiting list. I know there are transfers out of there now and again. But, you might have to wait a bit. I'll tell you what let me call them and I'll find out. I may be a while, so if you want to take a walk and come back," Lena suggested. "Come back in about twenty minutes give or take, okay?"

"Yeah, okay. Thh…thanks Lena"

"You're welcome honey."

**Meanwhile, The Winchester House**

"Dad? What did that bastard say?"

"Just that he'll never stop what he's doing. And, that he hasn't forgotten about Sammy. Your brother isn't free of that thing Dean or our family. I can't sit by and watch him hurt my boys or threaten us. And," John took a deep breath. "I can't watch another family die Dean. And, I feel like I let Sammy down because we couldn't save them. His vision could have taken him away from us, he could have died having it, and I couldn't save them."

"Dad," Dean admonished. "It wasn't your fault. You did what you could. Dammit, you were put in the hospital because of smoke inhalation." John looked at his son. "Yeah, Joshua told me. He also said the demon didn't come alone. You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough."

"Yes, it was."

"Carl shouldn't be dead Dean. I fucked up."

"No you didn't Dad. The hunt went bad and Carl died. It wasn't something you could have predicted and it's not your fault. Look Dad hunts can go wrong and that's the way it is. And, yeah sometimes its human error and other times, well, bad things just happen."

"When did you get so wise?" John smiled warmly at his son and reached out clasping him on a shoulder. "I should be trying to make you feel better about things not the other way around."

"Dad, I'm good and so is Sammy." John was silent for a long moment. "Dean," he began softly.

"I know," his firstborn replied.

"You know what?"

"That you gotta go," he answered simply. "Back out there … after the demon. I know. And, I understand."

"Why are you making this easier on me? I had a whole speech prepared," John spoke genuinely. Dean smiled.

"Whole speech, huh?" He grinned. "Well, far be it from me to deny you a good fatherly speech. I do understand Dad, and Sammy will too when we talk to him."

"Dean I know it's going to cause some changes around here and …"

"Stop Dad," Dean encouraged gently. "Look, yeah, Sammy and I will have to get an apartment or something because we can't still live here on what I make and Sam's state check, well, I like for him to have some money you know. We'll work it out."

"That's just it," John grumbled. "You shouldn't have to work it out. I'm uprooting you and Sam from the first real home you've known in years. Look I've got some money saved and its enough to pay the rent up on the house without using any of your paychecks for a good three months, and I can try to hustle some pool or work some under the table jobs while away and I'll send money."

"Dad, no, you're going to need your cash, okay. It ain't like hunting comes with a paycheck. We'll be okay. It's not like you're clearing out and not looking back, right?"

"Of course not," John answered quickly. "If you boys need me for anything at anytime I promise I will be here," John snaps his fingers, "just like that. And, if Sammy, heaven forbid goes back in the hospital for so much as a sniffle and that includes you too, I want to know. I'll be calling all the time." Dean had a distant look for a moment. "What? What is it?"

"It's just if things were different Dad," Dean began, "You know I'd be there with you on this hunt, even Sammy would go, but…"

"I know son, but _we _can't risk it with Sam, and _I_ won't risk either of you."

"Yeah, well," Dean replied. "Still if maybe Sammy weren't, well, you know… then I could go, but I'd never want him on a hunt I knew the demon would present. When are you leaving?" John dropped his eyes and stared at his folded hands a moment before looking up.

**Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

"Hey Sam, I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," Lena spoke. "I had a few other bases to cover before I spoke with you."

"It's okay. Well?"

"Well," Lena took Sam's verbal cue. "As I anticipated they do have a waiting list, but they are expecting a vacancy in three months," she saw Sam's face fall. "But, I spoke with Dr. Myers and as you know the center has recently finished with their expansion project that includes a new _Homeward Bound_ residential wing, and she has already pre-approved you for a room while you wait to get into New Horizons. You can be monitored as usual, and you can come and go as you need to from any OT work placements when you start back up doing that."

"I don't want tt…to pp…push someone else out Lena," Sam worried.

"You won't it's a brand new unit, and the transition of patients over there is going to be a slow process. I mean we'll be putting patients in there, but you're not pushing anyone out. After all, they have a bed, but it's just allowing them to move to a sort of step down unit where their care is easier for them and it opens a rehab room. The new unit offers the same care if needed to any patient, but it encourages them toward self-care, etc." Sam nodded. "So, if this happens with your family and they both need to go then you have a place Sam."

"Thanks."

**The Winchester House**

"So, when you hittin' the road?" Dean asked after his father's continued silence.

"Not right away. I have some loose ends to wrap up. I can't just leave Dan in the lurch at the shop. He's been good to me and I owe him a two-week notice, and I want to make sure you boys are taken care of, and will be okay." Dean smiled.

"We'll be fine. You doin' this alone?"

"Nah, I'm going to have some help along the way."

**Two Hours Later**

Sam walked into the house and smelled garlic. He followed his nose to the kitchen and found both his brother and father cooking. Dean was making a salad, and their Dad was pulling some garlic bread out of the toaster oven. "Hey Sammy," Dean quipped as he looked up and saw his brother. "You were gone for a while. I was just about to send out a search party for your ass." Dean looked at his brother for a long moment. "Everything okay? Doc Myers give you a clean bill of health with this check-up?"

"Yeah, she said the ll…lesion isn't any ww…worse."

"That's great Sammy," John answered. "She keep you on your new modified med schedule?"

"Yeah." Sam sniffed the kitchen as his father opened the oven. "Is that Lasagna?"

"Yeah, but it's a box lasagna, you know the frozen kind."

"Still smells good."

They sat down as a family for a nice meal. John and Dean exchanged looks and figured now was as good a time as any to talk to Sam about John going back out on the hunt. "Hey Sammy," John started.

"Yeah," Sam mumbled around a fork full of lasagna.

"Uh, Dean and I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Yeah, me too," Sam answered as he took a drink of milk. John and Dean exchanged worried glances.

"What?" Dean spoke suddenly. "I though you said your check-up went fine." Sam smiled patiently at his big brother.

"It did."

"Then what is it?" Dean asked. "What's wrong?"

"Sam?" John studied his son.

"Look you guys nn…need to chill okay. Nothing is wrong. What did you have to tt…tell me?"

"Oh, no, you don't," Dean replied. "Dad and I can wait. What is it?"

"I'm going back to Ivy Ridge for a while," Sam began, but was quickly cut off by his father's concerned voice.

"What? Why? You wouldn't be going back unless something was wrong."

"Dad," Sam started again and saw Dean getting up from the table. "What are you doing Dean?"

"I'm callin' Dr. Myers to find out what the hell is going on. She wouldn't be putting you back in there unless something wasn't right."

"Dean, stop," Sam raised his voice. "I'm fine. She ss…said I could have a place in thh…the new unit while I ww…wait."

"Wait? Wait for what?" Dean walked anxiously back to the table and sat down.

"Sammy, what's going on?" John needed to get to the bottom of this and now.

Sam leaned back and shoved his hand into his back jeans pocket and pulled out a thin color pamphlet and placed it on the table and slid it to the middle. "What's this?" Dean asked as he picked up the pamphlet.

"What I'm waiting fff…for. It hh…has a three month waiting list."

"_New Horizons Residential Living_, what the hell is this?" Dean barked as he flipped though the brief pamphlet. "You got a place to live Sammy."

"Read right there," Sam tapped on the pamphlet. Dean looked down and read over the mention of the _First Alert_ and the satellite telemetry capabilities for residents that needed nighttime observation for medical purposes.

"Yeah, so what," Dean snapped. John slid his hand over and took the pamphlet.

"Sammy, son, what's this all about?" John asked as he looked from the brochure to his son.

"So, you and Dean can lll…leave and nnn…not worry about me. I took ccc…care of it." Dean and his father exchanged glances. John reached over and patted Sam on the arm to calm him as his stuttering became more pronounced. Sam offered a small smile of thanks.

"Leave where?" John replied knowing full well his youngest child was as perceptive as ever had already anticipated the hunt starting up again.

"The demon," Sam answered as he looked from his father to his brother.

"Look Sammy there's no way I'm gonna have you stuck in some home," Dean fumed. "My ass isn't going anywhere and neither is yours."

"It's not a hh…home like you thh…think Dean. I'd have my own apartment. It'll be okay."

"No. No way Sammy, not gonna happen." Dean continued to rage.

"Sam your brother and I agreed that he'd stay behind, but you're right I have to go back out there and keep tracking this bastard. But, I'm only a phone call away if you boys need me for anything at all, and I'm calling everyday."

"Dad," Sam spoke softly. "You need Dean, I know you do."

"Sammy," John's voice was soft.

"No," Sam raised his voice. "I ccc…can't go. I know that. I did okay on the last hunt, but I ccc…can't risk having a vision while I'm covering you or Dean. This place will be okay. I'll be fff…fine."

"No way Sammy," Dean hissed.

"Dammit! I'm right you know I am," Sam yelled. "We're bbb…better as a family, but we cc…can't all do this, but you and Dad can. You need to watch out fff…for each other. I'll be alright."

Dean and John looked at each other and then to their youngest member of the family. A long silence fell between the three men as the reality of the situation at hand hung heavy between them all.

**To Be Continued**

**Well, one more chapter and this story should be complete as anticipated. Let me know what you think. Your comments and thoughts still matter. Thanks for sticking with this story from the beginning. **

**Read and Review!**


	28. Letting Go to Hold On

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS:** Well, this is it … the last chapter, the finale, and I hope you're happy with it when you're done reading. It's a long one. I wanted to personally, thank every reader that has reviewed either all or some of the chapters, and has stuck with the story through thick and thin … even through parts or story angles you weren't sure you even wanted to continue to read through to see how they panned out, thanks for sticking with it. I appreciate everything a great deal.

**Side Note:** Some items mentioned in this chapter: Goofer Dust and Devil's Bit mojo bags they provide protection from demons. The dust they aren't supposed to be able to cross and the Devil's Bit bags hold them in place and they can't move, so they can't cross through a threshold or opening. Also, should a demon sit or stand on a spot with DB bags they are essentially super glued to the spot the bags are affixed. These items fall under Hoodoo.

Let me know what you think. Thanks again!

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

**Letting Go to Hold On**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_When the hour is upon us … no you will not be alone … leave your fear in the fray, let us hold each other, 'til the end of our days."_ Excerpt by Rob Thomas, _Now Comes the Night_

**One Week Later**

Dean stared at the ceiling and his mind wandered. He glanced at the clock and could see it was after 1 AM and sleep was still eluding him, and he knew why. The past week had been difficult and his family seemed to be splintering in all directions. It felt like his grip wasn't strong enough anymore to keep the family together. His father hadn't said much in the past few days and Dean knew his dad was troubled about the decision to hunt again. There had been a lot of phone calls between his father and Joshua the last couple days, but his father never said anything to him. Sammy still wouldn't let go of the residential living arrangement. Dean let out a frustrated sigh and got up. He opened his door and quickly noticed his father's bedroom light was on. Dean stood at the closed door and debated, finally he couldn't hold back anymore, and he knocked quietly.

"Dad?" Dean kept his voice low. He knew Sam slept pretty deeply after his evening meds, but didn't want to run the chance in waking him. John opened the door and his face was full of concern.

"Dean? You okay?" John asked as he quickly surveyed his oldest child.

"Yeah, I …" Dean took a breath. "I need to talk to you Dad." John smiled warmly and he and Dean slipped down the hall and went to the kitchen. They turned the light on over the kitchen sink which illuminated the kitchen in a dim light and allowed them both to seek solace in the shadows surrounding the kitchen table.

"What is it?" John asked taking a seat.

"Dad," Dean's voice was slightly incredulous. John offered a mild smile.

"I wish I had answers for you Dean. I know you deserve them. I've been talking to Joshua and the demon hasn't shown his face again anywhere that he's heard, and I've run a check on the signs and haven't found any. It's quiet. I can't see uprooting you from your life here and seeing Sammy go back to Ivy Ridge to wait for that damn place he wants to go to only because he thinks he's helping us."

"Dad, I can't…" Dean looked at his father with pained eyes. "Dad, I want to help, I do, but I just can't leave Sammy. I thought I could, I did. I tried to convince myself that we all had to sacrifice and that I could let him go to that place. But, Dad, I can't." He paused. "I won't." John smiled. "What? You're not disappointed? I'm letting you down."

"Letting me down? Disappointed? Dean, I'm proud of you. I admit part of me wanted you with me, but I had to let you figure this out on your own. I don't want you thinking for one second that you let me down. In fact, had you been able to leave Sammy behind I would have been disappointed. Your brother doesn't belong in that place. I mean, it's not like a home in the sense either of us are thinking it is, but it's still not where he belongs."

"Yeah, well, convince Sammy of that. I feel like we're losing him a little more everyday and I can't do a damn thing about it. He says he'll stay until we are ready to go, and he won't discuss it at all. He's trying to be a damn martyr or something and I won't let him."

"Dean, your brother has a mind of his own. That boy has been contrary by nature since he could walk, but he thinks he's doing the one thing he can in this hunt for the demon and that's let us go where he can't follow." John cleared his voice. "He's letting us go, in order to hold on to us, and we thought the same thing, but it won't work because in the end we wouldn't be together, and like Sammy said, _were stronger as a family_." Dean smiled remembering his brother words back in Colorado when he had said those words, and Dean remembered saying them to their father, as well when he agreed with his little brother.

"So, what are you saying? Are you not gonna do this … return to the hunt?"

"I don't know," John hedged. "But, I do know one thing and there is no way Sammy is going off to that residential living place, no way in hell. I can't even believe I took this long to admit it. I must have been insane to even consider it." Dean laughed lightly.

"I feel the same way. I mean, I considered it you know. I ran these scenarios in my head on how it was gonna work, but every time it came down to it Sammy would be alone, and I wouldn't be there if something happened. I just couldn't live with myself if he stuck himself in that place just to keep us from worrying about him … when we would anyway, you know."

"Look we'll talk to him in the morning and tell him you're staying."

"He's going to fight us," Dean replied bluntly. "You know that, right?" John nodded. Dean was silent and John knew something else was on his son's mind, too.

"Okay," John let out a fatherly sigh. "Somethin' else beyond Sammy and hunting is on your mind," John spoke casually. "What is it?" Dean offered his father a mild smile as he rubbed a hand over his face and blew a breath out. John laughed quietly. "Woman trouble, huh?"

"It's not like that Dad, it's …" Dean wasn't used to heart to hearts with his Dad about girl's. "It's just I said something to April a couple weeks ago, and we've both been doing phone tag ever since. She's finishing her R.N. credits and I've been busy here and at work. And, I think I need to talk to her about it, and I don't know how."

"You let the 'L' word slip didn't you?" John smiled knowingly. Dean nodded and dropped his face in his hands. "Well, now," John tried to make his voice reassuring. "How bad we talkin' here," he hedged. "Did you say, 'I love you,' or 'I'm in love with you', what?"

"Dad," Dean wanted to crawl under a rock.

"Well, I'm just trying to help son. Some statements are less fatal than others. I need to know if you ate a bullet or if it's a flesh wound."

"Look it wasn't like that you know … it's not like I got down on one knee or something. It happened right before I left her place to go to the hospital when you called about Sammy." John smiled at his child. "What?"

"Nothin' go on," he urged.

"It wasn't some big declaration or anything … I just said 'love you' really quick and gave her a fast peck on the lips and I was gone. But…"

"But, you're not sure how she took it, right?"

"Yeah, I mean, I care for 'Pril I do, but we kinda got into this whole thing because it was casual. It's just…"

"You love her, but you're not in love," John offered. Dean looked at his father for a long moment. "Well, not that you couldn't in the distant future, but you're not there now, right?"

"Why do you know this stuff?" John chuckled.

"Hey, I was your age once you know. Your old Dad didn't just fall from the sky full grown you know. I went through my twenties, too. And, then I met your mom." He winked at his son. Dean smiled. "Well, the best thing you can do is talk to her and see what's going on in her head."

"How do I do that?"

"Dean, look women are complex creatures, and they aren't stupid. Your mother could dance circles around me in a conversation or disagreement. Hell, even when I was right, somehow by the end of the argument I was thinking I was wrong and I was apologizing. Your best bet is to just be honest. Bring it up … see where she is with what you said, and then work it out from there."

"I don't want to hurt her," Dean spoke softly.

"I understand that son, I do. But, have you considered she may be in the same spot you are. Maybe you're both on the same page and you're worrying over nothing."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean looked hopeful. "Thanks Dad."

"No problem. I'm good for something, eh?"

"Dad," Dean admonished. John smiled.

"It's late kiddo, we better call it a night. After all, we have to still talk to Sammy in the morning."

"It's already morning," Dean countered.

"Yeah, well, we can still get a little sleep before we have to go forty rounds with your brother in the morning." Dean offered a rueful smile.

"You thinks its gonna be that bad?" John just looked at his son as if to say _this is Sammy we're talking about here_. "Yeah, you're right. I'll see you in a few hours."

"'Night son."

"'Night Dad."

**Later the Next Morning**

"Morning son," John said as Sam walked into the kitchen. The youngest member of the family noticed that both his brother and father were up and both looked a little tired which meant they had probably been up for a while.

"Morning," Sam returned. "You two are up early."

"Yeah, we wanted to talk to you son." John answered. "Have a seat." He pulled a chair out at the table for Sam.

"About what?" Sam was leery.

"Sammy," Dean began. "I'm staying here okay. I'm not gonna hunt that demon."

"What? No, you have to go. You have to watch Dad's back."

"Sam," John spoke. "I told you I wouldn't be alone. I'm not going off half cocked. Your brother wants to stay."

"Bullshit," Sam barked as he stood up abruptly. "If I wasn't lll…like I am. He'd be ggg…gone. If I didn't hhh…have thh…these damn seizures with mm…my visions," Sam was visibly upset and his fractured speech was a dead give away to his family.

"Sammy chill out okay," Dean put a hand out to touch his brother's flailing right arm. Sam jerked away as if the touch burned him.

"Ddd…don't coddle me. I'm doin' this. I ccc…can help and thh…this is how I can."

"Son, you putting yourself in an assisted living facility isn't helping us. I know you think it is, but your brother and I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing where you were and knowing it wasn't where you're supposed to be."

"Thh..then what am I supposed to do?" Sam pleaded and yelled at the same time.

"First, you're going to sit before you get yourself all worked up," John patted the table. Sam let out a frustrated sigh and sat heavily in his chair. And, second, you're not supposed to _do_ anything Sammy," John spoke softly. "This isn't something you have to fix, okay. You're not the problem here. That damn demon is what's wrong."

"I ccc…can't be what you and Dean nnn…need," Sam's eyes misted as he dropped his eyes to stare at his hands.

"Sammy that's crap," Dean said softly. "You've always been what ever we needed. And, if it hadn't been for you on that last hunt," Dean reached out and put a hand on his brother's forearm. He was happy when his little brother didn't pull away. "If it hadn't been for you … Dad and me would be dead. And, so would Joshua and Jefferson for that matter."

"Your brother is right Sammy." John replied. "Look, I'm not in your shoes, but I can imagine how frustrating it is to feel held back by some physical limitation. I'll admit your seizures scare the hell out of me because I can't help you. I can't take them on for you."

"Dad, please," Sam turned emotional eyes to his father. "You need Dean. Dean needs you. It's safer if you hunt together." John shook his head slightly. Dean started to speak, but John lifted a hand silencing him.

"Sammy, we all need each other, okay? Coming back here to Jefferson City was the best decision I've made in years. I was a damn fool for leaving to begin with. And, being back with you boys under the same roof has been a gift, it has. I wish the demon wasn't a factor to our family, but he is. He's taken too much from us all ready I won't let him destroy everything good we've managed to create as a family. I want you and Dean to stay. I promise I won't disappear again." Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Okay, that was way too easy," Dean quipped as he looked from his apparently resolved brother to his father's emphatic eyes. "Sammy?"

"What?" he snapped.

"We only went a couple rounds with you," Dean answered candidly. "I mean, come on you gave in pretty quick."

"It's whh…what you and Dad www…want, right? Dad needs to go alone. Fine."

"Sammy," John spoke. "Please, I need to know you understand. I can't watch you boys go back into the hunt again not after what you finally have," he paused. "You both have a real home and lives now."

"Sss…so do you," Sam answered quietly not meeting his father's eyes.

"Yes," John conceded to his youngest child, but elaborated no further.

"Sam," Dean's voice was tentative. "It's not gonna be like before," he offered. "Dad, isn't going to just disappear. He's going to be calling every day, or well, almost every day. And, we can call him. It's gonna be okay." A small tremble worked through Sam and John and Dean exchanged looks. "Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly. John and Dean weren't convinced.

"You take your morning meds," Dean asked. Sam shook his head. John read his oldest son's face and stood up.

"I'll go get them," John replied. Dean studied his brother's quiet countenance.

"Sss…stop ss…staring," Sam stuttered. "I'm not going to hhh…have a seizure. It was just a chill."

"I'm not staring," Dean offered bluntly. "It's called looking." He smiled trying to get a small smile from his brother. He frowned when he didn't get anything. "Oh, come on Sammy, lighten up, will ya?"

"Here," John came back into the room with three pill bottles. "Let me get you some water. You doin' okay?" He looked at Sam.

"He's okay, Dad," Dean assured. They watched Sam swallow his pills and the family sat silent at the kitchen table for a few minutes.

"So," Sam began breaking the silence. "When are you ll…leaving?" His voice sounded solemn.

"Not sure yet kiddo," John answered honestly. "I'm still talking to Joshua and some friends. I won't just up and vanish, I promise." Sam looked at his father and nodded.

"I hh…have OT today, and I'm taking the bus, so I better ff…finish getting ready."

"Your brother and I are off today … one of us could take you and pick you up," John offered.

"No," Sam replied. "I want ttt…to go alone." Sam got up from the table and left.

"He'll be okay Dean," John reassured. "He does understand, you know. He might not like our decision, but he'll be okay."

"I hope."

"So, are you going to call April and get this other matter worked out?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed.

**Later that Afternoon**

"Sorry about the two weeks of phone tag," Dean said across from April while they sat a table in the local park.

"It's okay Dean, I'm just as guilty over the tag situation," she replied with a soft smile. "So, how is everything with your brother since he was released from the hospital?"

"He's good. So, you keepin' busy?"

"Yeah, a lot has been happening," she paused. "I wanted to talk to you about some things."

"Yeah, me too," he answered with a hesitant voice. "Ladies first."

"Dean, the last few months we've been getting together," she started. "We both wanted something casual and that's been working. But, the last time we were together, well…"

"Yeah, I know," Dean hedged. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"You go," she urged.

"No, you." He countered. They both sat looking at each other, and the silence filled the space between them. And, as if on cue both decided to blurt it out.

"I'm not in love with you," they both said in unison. Dean and April sat looking at each other dumbfounded by the sudden and identical admission. And both laughed.

"Oh God, I was beating myself up. I've lost sleep," April said through her laugh.

"Yeah, me too," Dean mused. "When I said what I said, it wasn't well…"

"The _in love _kinda 'love you'," she joked.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "I mean you're smokin' hot, smart, and the casual thing has been working, and I could get there some day, I could, but…"

"But, no commitments right now," she offered.

"Yeah, it's just I'm not ready to settle down …"

"Dean, you don't have to explain. I'm not ready for the house, dog and two kids either. And, if there is one thing I have always respected about you from the beginning is your up front honesty before we started this thing, whatever it is," April paused. "I mean, I know I called myself your girlfriend that night and I liked hearing you say what you said, but …"

"It's cool," Dean replied. "No worries. I guess we're more like …" his voice trailed off.

"Lovers," she countered. He smiled.

"Is that okay?" April laughed.

"Yeah, of course."

"So," Dean began. "Was that all you had to tell me?"

"No, not exactly." She hedged.

"What? You're not …" his heart suddenly skipped.

"Oh, lord, no," she answered quickly. "Bite your tongue." Dean smiled. "Um, I've been approached with this awesome opportunity after I pass my boards."

"Really? What?"

"Well, I'm taking my boards next week, and there is a program for traveling nurses and therapists. You know PT and speech. Well, they fly you all over to different places here in the US. My lease ends in a month and I was thinking I can put my stuff in storage and go. I can see places I've always wanted too, and work at some really great facilities across the country. I'd be gone six months to a year traveling and completing different stints at hospitals and rehab centers."

"Sounds great," Dean replied. "I know you love to travel."

"I can always take a week or two or three," she said with a smile. "For some shore leave," she winked.

"Well, I'd be happy to oblige you in that category." She smiled.

**Meanwhile, Ivy Ridge Rehab**

Sam stared at a tax worksheet and let out a frustrated sigh. "I know this looks difficult Sam, but you'll get it?" Darlene encouraged. "Just follow the sample info to fill in the slots and do your calculations."

"I'm trying," he complained. He stared at the directions and no matter how many times he read the directions they almost seemed like they were in a foreign language. He shoved the worksheet away. "I can't dd…do this."

"Yes, you can," Darlene countered as she patiently pushed the worksheet back under Sam's bowed head. "Hey, can't never did a thing," she quipped. Sam raised his head and looked at her. "Okay, maybe that sounded lame, but I try."

"Why cc…can't I understand?"

"Sam," Darlene began. "You know that some cognitive things are more difficult for you than others. And, hey, I hear you passed the classes you took at the community college. I know you still have some difficulties, and possibly always will. You've adjusted and made excellent progress in a lot of areas."

"Nnn…not this," Sam's voice was angry. "I sss..still have trouble bbb…balancing a checkbook. I should understand. I did before the accident. A monkey could do what I can't."

"Now, listen here," Darlene chided. "A monkey couldn't and you know it. Look a lot of people have trouble balancing a checkbook and even more don't understand how to do their taxes. Why do you think so many people pay to have them done? What you've been able to accomplish with the level of brain injury you suffered is amazing Sam. You have to realize how lucky you are."

"I know," Sam whispered with his eyes dropped. "It's just sometimes I don't feel so lucky."

"I know." Darlene tried to sound comforting as she patted him on the hand. "Here why don't we try something else and come back to personal taxes. How about making change?" Sam let out a frustrated sigh. "Hey, one or the other," she offered.

"Fine, I'll make the damn change."

"Boy, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed today. Everything okay at home?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "Sss…sorry Darlene I didn't mm…mean to …"

"It's okay Sam. I know you get frustrated. It really is alright." Darlene assured. "Okay, let's get started.

**The Winchester House**

John sat in the family room talking on the phone. "No, the boys are both out," John spoke to Joshua.

_So, is Dean coming with you? I know you mentioned Sam going to that residential place._

"No, Dean and Sam belong together. And, there's no way in hell I'm letting my kid go to an assisted living place. He has a home."

_John? I know what finding and killing this demon means to you, but are you willing to pay the price? I mean, leaving the boys behind._

"What? You think it's easy for me to leave my son's. I screwed up so badly with them, and now that we're finally on track it all gets shot to hell because of that damn bastard demon."

_Well, John if you feel like you're pissing in the wind then just say so and we won't do this. The demon is lying low right now anyway._

John let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Josh, I'll get back to you in a day or two, okay?"

"_Yeah, sure John, take your time buddy. I don't have kids, but I can imagine it's gotta be tough. _

"Thanks Joshua. If something comes up before you hear from me … give me a call, okay?"

_You got it John. Talk to you later._

**Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

Sam walked outside the center to start his long walk up the entrance driveway to go to the nearby bus stop to catch his connection back to the city. He glanced at his watch and saw that he had a good forty minutes to kill before his connection came, so he decided to take a quick stroll down by the pond. He could hear the ducks on the water and decided he wanted to sit and relax for a while. He knew the bus stop was only a ten minute walk when push came to shove. He stood at the waters edge and looked out at the still water. The only movement was the rippling waves that cascaded away from the ducks as they swam in the distance. A cool March breeze blew across the water and Sam slipped into the light jacket he held folded over his arm. A feeling of being watched crept over him and he looked over his shoulder, but there was only empty space and trees. He looked back over the water and he knew without seeing and a fist involuntarily clenched.

"I know you're here," his tone low and warning. "I ff…feel you." There was a clapping noise that drew Sam's line of sight to a tree about twenty-feet away, and he watched a figure step into view. Sam squinted against the sun streaming in and out of the trees. He saw a man with a short cropped hair, and he wore a long duster jacket. He recognized the body language right away, and as he looked to his eyes, he knew it was the demon. He looked exactly as he had in Salvation in Rosie's nursery. The figure stopped his congratulatory clapping.

"Sammy, Sammy," he cooed. "You should pat yourself on the back," he replied. "You're more adept at that little gift of yours when you let yourself embrace it. How is that precious family of yours? I'm sure your daddy told you we saw each other in Eden."

"Leave my ff…family out of this. You murdered that ff…family. Even the bbb…baby."

"The child was unfortunate. He would have served me well when he came of age. But, survival of the fittest as they say …"

"Why are you hh…here?"

"Just checking in Sammy," the demon smiled, but no kindness emitted from that smile only malice.

"On me? Whh…why? I'm nn…not worth your time now."

"Oh, I admit your little complication after the accident was never planned, and yes it has made me reconsider your usefulness in my plans, but when all is said and done, you have something I want and one day I will come calling for you. Of course, it does seem that pesky seizure thing doesn't agree with your gift. But, I'm not coming for you right now. After all, what's that old human saying, 'all good things come to those who wait.'"

"I'll nnn…never do what you want. I won't go www…with you."

"Oh, I think you will," The demon leered. "After all, you wouldn't want daddy or that big brother of yours in my line of fire, would you? Although, I wouldn't mind having another go at your brother … I had such fun with him in that cabin. Oh, and your father, his meat suit was a good time, too."

"Don't threaten my family," Sam warned. The demon looked at Sam for a long moment. His yellow eyes staring deep into Sam's dark eyes both studying the other.

"We'll meet again Sammy… everything in its time." And, in the span of a blink he was gone. Sam looked around frantically, but the demon was gone leaving behind the smell of sulfur in the March breeze. Sam felt shaken and walked to the bench near the water and sat down. The sun had already begun to drop lower in the sky and Sam looked at his watch.

"Dd…damn, its 4:00 already," Sam hissed. _It felt like only minutes he was here. Where in the hell did I lose two hours_, Sam thought to himself. "Shit," he spat as he recognized the early signs of an oncoming seizure. "Ppp…please, not now. Nnn…no more." He tried to relax and hoped it wouldn't be a bad one. He sat on the bench and loosely held his left arm as it jerked and seized. His hand would clench so tightly his knuckles popped once or twice as his grip released and clenched spastically. The Jacksonian seizure stayed localized to his arm, and he felt thankful for this small gift.

**The Winchester House**

"I thought I'd order in some Thai food from that new place down the street," John suggested as he pulled out local menus from a drawer in the kitchen. "I know there's a menu in here somewhere for them. It came in the paper last week." John kept pushing papers around.

"Yeah sounds good," Dean answered.

"So, did things go okay with April?" John asked as he continued his menu search.

"You were right Dad, go figure," Dean mused. "She and I were on the same page … turns out she's taking this traveling nurse and therapist offer to travel for the better part of a year. We're going to keep in touch one way or the other while she's gone, but yeah, we're okay."

"Still going to see each other until she leaves?" John turned his attention from the drawer for a moment to look at his son.

"Yeah, still keepin' things casual." John nodded and turned back to the kitchen drawer.

"Got it," John replied. He craned his head around and looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. "Is that right?" He said looking at his watch to verify the clock was right.

"Yeah, why?"

"Your brother should have been home from rehab a long time ago." Dean shared a concerned look with his father. He pulled out his cell phone and pushed send.

**Ivy Ridge Rehab Center**

The sound of his cell phone ringing shook Sam from his thoughts. He was tired and his mind was racing from the demon's words. No, his warnings; awful portents to his future if the demon has his way. "Hello?" Sam's voice shook despite his effort to sound fine.

"Sammy?" Dean's big brother alarm was immediately peaked at the sound of his brother's voice. "You okay? You sound off."

The line was still silent. "Sam? Sammy!" Dean shouted into the phone. John strode over and grabbed the cell phone from his son.

"Sammy? It's Dad," John felt panic rise up in his chest. Something was wrong. "Talk to me," his voice was a mixture of plea and command.

"Dad?" Sam found his voice once again.

"Hey, kiddo," John felt relief at the sound of his youngest child's voice. "Where are you?"

"Ivy Ridge."

"Still? Why? You miss your bus?"

"Hhh…had a seizure," Sam began and his father barked into the phone. Sam flinched.

"Sonofabitch," John spoke quickly. "Are you okay Sammy? We're on the way, okay?"

"What? What's wrong?" Dean asked. Sam could hear his brother in the background. He heard his father speak to his sibling.

"He had a seizure." John's voice was gruff. Sam heard his father shift back into the cell phone. "Sammy, son," he began. "You're okay right?"

"I'm fff…fine. It was a small one. Mm…my arm only."

"Only your arm," John's voice softened. "Are you in a treatment room? Is Dr. Myers with you?"

"Nnn…no it happened at the pond. I was sitting." Sam's voice still sounded a bit off to John.

"Sammy, are you sure you're okay? What is it?" Sam took a breath and spoke.

"Hhh…he was here. He came while I was at thh..the pond. He talked to me and lll…left." Sam's voice shook.

"He who?" John gripped the phone tightly. There was a quiet pause on the phone. "Sammy?" John heard his youngest son take a shaky breath.

"The ddd…demon," his voice came out sounding so young and afraid.

"Shit," John spat. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"You go inside the center Sammy. You go now. You're brother and I are on the way."

"He's gg..gone dad," Sam replied.

"You listen to me Sam. You do as I say. You go inside and wait for us in the lobby." John's voice was harsh. He took a breath and softened his tone. "Please, Sammy," John asked.

"Okay," Sam's voice was small.

John snapped Dean's cell phone closed. Dean looked at his father and saw a feral look in his father's eyes. "Dad, what is it? Sammy's okay, right?"

"The demon came to him at the pond," John hissed as he grabbed keys to his truck.

"What?! Is he okay? That bastard hurt him?" Dean followed after his father.

"He said he wasn't hurt. I think he's just shook up. Sammy said that evil bastard talked to him. I just want to get to him," John said. "Come on."

**Later that Evening, the Winchester House**

They had sat in the family room and John looked at his boys. Sam had told them what the demon had said. He wanted to hold back, but decided to tell them everything, and he did. John ran a hand over his tired eyes. "So, he said 'everything in its time' you're sure that's what he said?"

"Yeah, dad," Sam replied. "He made it sound like it might be a while before he … you know … comes back for me."

"That not gonna happen Sammy," Dean spoke. "That bastard isn't touching you." John could feel the rage rolling off his eldest son.

"Easy, Dean," John urged. "It's going to be okay." He shifted his eyes to his youngest child. He saw the dark circles under his baby boy's eyes, and he looked frail to him all of a sudden. "Sammy?" His voice was soft as he reached a hand out and put it on his son's knee. Sam raised his eyes to meet his father's. John gently squeezed his knee and smiled. "It's going to be okay kiddo. We're going to face this as a family." He comforted.

"Thh…thanks dad," Sam's voice was quiet.

"You look exhausted Sammy why don't you go lay down for a while. We'll have a late dinner okay? I was going to have Thai delivered."

"I'm okay," Sam offered.

"Dad's right Sammy," Dean agreed looking at his brother. "You should rest for a while. Humor us, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Sam agreed. He was too exhausted to put up much of a resistance anyway. Once Sam disappeared into his room John looked at Dean.

"Son, I need you to check the perimeter of the house. Check the buried amulets, and lay a new Goofer Dust line in the soil against the house. I'm going to check the salt lines around the house and the amulets. I'll check the Devil's Bit mojo bags at the doors and our bedroom windows."

"You got it Dad," Dean replied standing quickly. He had switched from big brother mode into hunter/protector in an instant. "Dad, maybe we should add some devil's traps at the doors and windows just to be safe."

"Yeah, I'll draw some small ones on the windows with a window marker, and the doors will be easy. I'll just put the traps under the mats on the inside of the doors."

"Sounds good." Both Winchester's went about their duties while the youngest member of their family slept.

John crept quietly into Sam's room and went to his son's window to check the salt and Goofer dust line and Devil's Bit bags that hung … everything was secure. The house had been triple checked and Dean was almost done laying the new Goofer dust line next to the house. John stopped near Sam's bed to watch his son sleep. His young face looked tense even in sleep. His brow bore a slight tension crease. John smiled warmly and lowered a hand onto his son's head. Sam didn't stir. John gently ran a thumb over the crease in child's forehead. "Easy Sammy," John comforted in a hushed tone. "It's okay." Sam moved slightly and sighed under his father's gentle touch. John felt the hot sting of tears welling in his eyes as he watched Sam relax under his fatherly ministrations. His son was resting peacefully now.

"Dad?" Dean's voice whispered at his brother's doorway. "He okay?"

"Yeah," John's voice was gruff with emotion. "You finish up?" John asked as he moved toward his oldest son and quietly left Sam's room closing the door slightly as he left.

"Yeah, it's taken care of," Dean assured.

"Good." John and Dean walked to the kitchen. John poured himself a cup of coffee. "You want a cup son?" John asked as he watched his child sit down at the kitchen table.

"Yeah, thanks." John placed the hot cup in front of his son. "So, dad," Dean began. "When do you think he'll come back?"

"It's hard to say, but I don't think it'll be for a while."

"What's a while?" Dean hedged.

"Could be years Dean," John replied in frustration. "Or maybe a few months, I don't know."

"Dad there are other children like Sammy still being born," Dean started. "I mean look at that baby in Salvation that survived. And, then the one in Eden that…" Dean's voice trailed off he didn't want to say the words and remind his father of that hunt gone horribly wrong. "If kids are still being born … one's like Sam … then what's that mean? If the demon has some kind of master plan for Sam and the other children like him … how's that gonna work? A baby can't do anything, hell; Sammy didn't get his abilities until he was twenty-two." John studied his firstborn. He knew the truth about the demon's plans for Sammy and the others, but he couldn't tell Dean, not yet. He wanted to protect both his children from the truth for as long as possible. He wasn't going to let that evil bastard get near either of his children again. He wasn't going to lose Sammy to this darkness. His baby boy came into this world _special_, but Sam was his son, his flesh and blood, and he would find a way to see his youngest son through the trials ahead, no matter what.

"I don't have all the answers Dean," John answered with a slight pang of guilt for lying to his son. He knew one day soon he'd tell Dean the truth, but for right now, but soon. "We'll handle this as a family, okay?" Dean nodded.

**Meanwhile, Upstate New York**

Sarah sat at her desk in the gallery composing an email addressed to Sam. Her fingers hovered over the keys as she contemplated each word, as if the gravity of the world would sit upon them. She had come back from Missouri months ago, but she hadn't been able to let Sam go. She didn't care about the disabilities. He was still Sam to her and he always would be. She felt a connection to him that she wanted to fight for. She wasn't going to fool herself … she didn't understand the world he and his family lived in, but she wanted to try or at the least accept what they do. She had seen it with her own eyes when she and Sam had faced that evil spirit of the little girl. She knew that things went bump in the night now, and things had never been the same for her. Finally, she started to write.

_Dear Sam,_

_It's been a few months since we've spoken. But, I had to email. I've missed you. Sam, I know what we talked about and that you said it wasn't safe. I understand, I do, but life is risk and I want to know you, be with you. I don't care about the speech problems, none of it makes me care any less for you. We haven't been in contact since my visit in December and I wanted to see how things were. Any news on your end? Kill that demon yet? Things are quiet with me. The gallery has been busy lately. A lot of estate sales. I'm rambling, I know, but I just want to see you again or talk on the phone, hear your voice._

_I'm not giving up on you Sam Winchester. I see so much potential for us Sam, and even you admitted that once when we first met that there was something between us. I know you're dealing with issues I'll never truly comprehend, but I can try to understand them, and support you. I'm willing to stay away Sam if that's what you need, but I want you to know that I want to try being an 'us' when you're ready. I hope you email me back or hey a call would be nice too. I miss your voice. Maybe, you could come to New York for a visit or I could visit again. Who knows? It's just that when you find someone you feel a strong connection with you don't just want to let it go without a fight._

_Miss you,_

_Sarah_

She read over the email and contemplated deleting it, but took a breath and hit send.

**The Winchester House**

John closed the front door after paying the food delivery man. "Sammy still sleeping?" John asked Dean as he saw his son come from the direction of the hallway.

"Yeah, I could wake him, though," Dean replied. "It's already 7:00 and he usually hits the sack around 11 because his meds knock him out once they take effect."

"Okay, wake him up," John relented. "You're right … he'll be taking his meds in a couple hours anyway." John headed to the kitchen.

Thirty minutes later the Winchester men settled back in their chairs in the kitchen. "That was pretty good," Dean replied. "I'm stuffed."

"Yeah, it wasn't bad." John agreed. The family had tried to keep dinner light and there was no talk of the demon and what had happened at the rehab center. Sam pushed remnants of a couple noodles on his plate with a fork. John and Dean exchanged looks.

"You okay Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, ff..fine," Sam placed his fork down.

"Sam," John began. "I don't want you letting that bastard get to you, okay? We're handling this as a family."

"How?" Sam asked suddenly.

"How what?" John looked at his son curious. His son's question seemed a bit ambiguous.

"How are we ggg…going to handle it as a ff…family? You're leaving." Sam stared at his hands not meeting his father's eyes. John let out a soft sigh.

"We'll figure it out, okay? We're a family no matter what Sammy," John comforted.

"Dad's right," Dean agreed. "Hey, Sammy you said yourself way back in Chicago. Remember?" Sam looked at him and frowned trying to recall. "Remember when I was talkin' about wanting the three of us together again. To be a family. But, you said 'we are a family' and you were right. Even if the three of us aren't together we are still a family no matter where we are … together or not." Sam smirked at his brother. "What?"

"Nothin,' Sam replied with a grin.

"Samantha," Dean's tone was low. "What?"

"It's jj…just that little speech you jjj…just said … regular _Lifetime_ movie moment man. Where are the ccc…cameras?" John chuckled softly.

"Shut up," Dean groused under the trace of a smile. Sam laughed.

John watched both his boys laugh and smile and in that moment he felt a quiet respite fall over him. He was happy. "You boys want to watch a movie on the tube?"

"Yeah, Dad, sounds good," Dean answered. "I think the _Sci-Fi_ channel is playing _Saw 2_."

"I'm not watching that crap Dean. I saw the previews for that the other night."

"Okay," Dean said with a laugh. "The _FX_ channel is playing _Thirteen Ghosts_." Now John laughed.

"A comedy, huh? Sounds good." John looked at his youngest. "You comin' Sammy?"

"In a bit. I ww…want to use the laptop."

"Okay. Well, we'll be in the family room when you're done." Sam nodded.

Sam accessed his email and quickly noted he had an email from Sarah. He hadn't heard from her since her December visit and he clicked quickly. The mail opened and he read it. When he finished he felt torn by what she had said. She was accepting him no matter what, and he knew she had no idea about his latest improvements with his speech, and she was right. There was a connection, but Sam thought to himself, _it's just not safe right now. It may never be._ He took a breath and made a decision. He got up and closed his bedroom door quietly. He grabbed his cell phone and called Sarah.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sarah. It's Sam." He concentrated to get his words right.

"Sam! Hey, I'm so happy to hear your voice."

"I got your email."

"So, how are you?" Sarah's voice sounded happy.

"Okay," his voice was hesitant.

"But? I hear a but in there."

"Sarah, ww…what you said in your email. It means the world tt..to me. But, it's not safe to be with me," he paused. "It may never be."

"Sam," Sarah's voice was soft. "You can't lock yourself away from life. There are no safety guarantees in life. I mean, yeah, okay, your life is a bit different than the average guy on the street. But, one of us could just as easily get plowed into by a drunk driver and die, its life."

"Sarah, I know you're trying to understand my life and the way my fff…family lives … the hunting evil part, but if I can keep you safe, I will." He heard her patient sigh. "Look, I know you could cross the street and get mowed over, or what did you say that one time … hit by a bus and die, whatever," he continued. "I don't have ccc…control over that, but I do over what I can prevent. And, that's keeping you away from the evil that plagues my ff…family."

"Okay," it was soft and resigned. Then something occurred to her and she smiled. "Sam your speech … you're barely having trouble," her voice was excited. Sam smiled to himself.

"Yeah, if I tt… try to concentrate I can control it a lot more than I could back in December. I saw a speech pathologist that specializes in brain injury speech problems and stuttering."

"That's great. You sound wonderful."

"Thanks."

The conversation went on for a bit longer, but in the end Sam asked Sarah to live her life and that he'd touch base once in a while. "So, this is it, huh?" Her voice sounded gentle.

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam replied. "Uh, Sarah, thanks for everything."

"For what? I haven't done anything."

"You have … just know that," Sam responded. "If you ever need anything," Sam began.

"I know," Sarah interjected quickly. "You too."

"Take care Sarah. Be happy, okay?"

"You too Sam. Be safe."

"I will."

And the conversation ended with versions of goodbye without saying the words. Sam snapped his cell phone closed and felt like a deflated balloon. _It was the right thing to do_, he told himself. He couldn't ask her to wait for what could be years, and with a solemn sigh he stood up to join his brother and father in the family room. Things were the way they had to be, and he let go of what might have been.

Sam walked into the room, "Come on Sammy, you gotta see these idiots. You'll get a good laugh." Sam offered a mild grin and took his spot on the couch between his brother and father. John glanced at his youngest.

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. John wasn't sure he believed his son's response, but he let it go. Sometimes he knew his baby boy just needed to work through things on his own. He reached over and dropped his hand on Sam's forearm and squeezed once before lifting it up. Sam met his father's eyes and nodded. The silent understanding and acknowledgement based between father and son without words.

**One Month Later, April 2009**

John continued to work at the garage while he still worked out plans with Joshua. The truth was he was dragging his feet. There was a larger part of him that didn't want to leave his boys alone. John felt that they would be vulnerable without him, although, he knew it was most likely the same odds either way. His fatherly instincts had been in overdrive since returning to his children, but had basically redlined over the course of the previous month and the visitation Sam received at the rehab center.

Dean was back at work and Sam had returned to the library near home. He only helped out a couple days a week as he attended more OT sessions at Ivy Ridge.

John's cell phone rang as he left the auto garage for the day. He looked on the caller ID. It was Dean. "Dean?"

"Hey Dad," his voice casual. "Look I'm kinda stuck outside Tipton."

"Tipton? What in the hell are you doing there?"

"Yeah, I needed to pick up a part for the Impala. You remember the side mirror got trashed last week by a shopping cart," Dean replied.

"Oh yeah," John admitted.

"Yeah, well the place that could get in a replacement for classic cars is in Tipton, anyway," Dean sighed. "I got a flat Dad."

"And, let me guess, no spare," John hedged.

"Yeah, well, I never really cleared out the weapon space in the trunk. Not a lot of room for a spare. I'm about ten minutes outside Tipton. I think I picked up a nail or something."

"Alright, sit tight. Let me swing back at work. I'll pick you up another tire and bring it to you. What about Sammy?"

"I called him. He's already home from library."

"Should I stop by a get him? Does he want to come?"

"Nah, he said he doesn't want to, and anyway it's not quite two hours round trip," Dean sighed. "Sammy said he'd be fine. Sorry dad. I know this is probably the last thing you wanted to do when you got off work."

"It's okay. I'm already back at the shop. I'll get you another tire and be on the way."

"Thanks Dad. I owe ya one."

"Not a problem."

John snapped his phone shut after asking Dean exactly where outside Tipton he was, and he went about getting a tire he knew would fit on the Impala. He threw the tire in the back of his truck and climbed in. As John pulled into traffic and headed out of the city for Tipton he felt this fleeting moment of hesitation in his gut toward leaving Sammy alone at home. He resisted the urge to stop at the house and get his son and kept heading out of town.

**The Winchester House**

Sam walked into the kitchen and pulled a soda out of the refrigerator. The bottle hissed as he twisted the cap off. He smirked at the 'caffeine free' label. His big brother was always making sure stuff was okay for him to consume. He looked at the clock and saw it was already 5 PM, and Dean had called a short while ago to say he had heard from their Dad and he was about 10 miles from Tipton, so they'd be on their way back just as soon as he got the tire changed. The sun was already getting low in the sky and Sam contemplated trying to start dinner, but decided to wait. He tilted his head back to take another long drink of soda when the kitchen lights began to flicker.

He put his soda down on the counter and walked toward the family room and could see the lamps flickering in their as well. He could see through the open curtains that the street lights outside were coming on and off, as well. The light show wasn't that obvious to the outside world because the sun was not completely set and no one would notice the lights outside. A feeling of dread filled Sam. He looked around panicked. He tried to convince himself that it was just an approaching storm or a disruption in the electricity. The house was safe. The protection amulets, mojo bags, and everything else was in place, and then as if on cue a horrible realization came to him … the fireplace.

And, just as he spun to look at the fireplace while the lights still flickered he saw the thick black mist snake out of the brick hearth and in the blink of an eye the Demon stood before Sam with a lecherous smile. "Hello Sammy," he cooed. Sam started for the front door in a vain attempt to get away. "Not so fast," the demon replied casually. Sam was flung against the nearest wall and held there by an invisible force.

"Let me ggg…go." Sam demanded.

"Let you ggg…go?" The demon replied while mocking Sam's stutter. "I want something and I'm here to collect." Sam filled with rage looking at the demon.

"I told you … I won't do what you want … nnn…never." The demon shook his head and approached Sam.

"I haven't come for you," the demon began. "In due time Sammy. The time has not yet come to pass … everything in its time." He assured with a voice that sent cold shivers down Sam's spine. "I've come for the Colt. I know its here and I need you to give it to me."

"No."

"Then your father and your brother are dead," the demon replied. "It would be such a shame if a horrible accident were to happen … once again. You'll give me the Colt or you'll be deciding in a few days whether to bury or cremate them."

"Why?" Sam dared to ask. "It isn't a danger to you in this form. It didn't work in Salvation."

"No, but I have my reasons, and as you well know my true form doesn't allow me nearly as much fun as stepping into a meat suit. I want the Colt Sam, now," the demon ground out in a low warning tone.

"You knn…know its here, get it your damn self." Sam felt a white hot pain lance through his head followed by a tickle beneath his nose. He could taste the coppery blood drip across his mouth. The pain in his head was blinding and it began to ebb away slowly.

"Hurts doesn't it?" The demon smiled. "I could rip you apart from the inside. Ask your brother about that sensation. I could burst a vessel in that brain of yours … not that it could take much more damage," the demon snickered. "I could leave you a drooling rag doll for the rest of your short human life."

"Yeah," Sam panted. "But you won't."

"Don't be too sure of that Sammy," the demon warned.

"You need mmm…me," Sam replied. "You have ppp…plans."

"Yes, but there are more children available to me … you're a dime a dozen. If you die, it may be a bit of an inconvenience, but so was Max Miller, such promise in that boy, but such is life, you're expendable to me, and so is your family," the demon spoke in a self assured voice. "Now, get me that gun Samuel," the demon spoke. "If I have to ask again, you'll wish I hadn't." Sam felt himself released from the wall. Sam disappeared into his father's room and came out with a metal box. The box bore the markings of a Devil's Trap on every side, the top and bottom.

"You can't get inside can you?" Sam questioned.

"A small technicality," the demon responded. "Now open it and give me that damn gun."

"But, holy water doesn't even work on you," Sam hedged. "Why would this stop…" Sam's voice was cut off suddenly and he gasped in pain. The pain in his head lanced sharply from one side to the other and exploded behind his eyes. He sagged to his knees from the pain. The metal box fell numbly from his fingers.

"Now!" the demon roared. Sam's hands shook as he worked the combination lock and lifted the metal lid. Sam hesitated reaching in for the gun. "Give it to me Samuel. Fine," he sighed in frustration. "You've just killed your father and your brother."

"No!" Sam shouted as fear gripped him. "Don't hurt them." Sam struggled to his feet with the box in hand.

"You know," the demon began. "I may enjoy seeing them both dead much more than having this gun."

"No, don't hhh…hurt them," Sam pleaded.

"Hmm… I could kill your father with no effort. Squeeze his heart slowly with a mere thought … feel it stop beating. And, your brother … I'd let him live long enough to bury your pain in the ass father, and then I would crush Dean … you'd be all alone Sammy. And, the only reason your family would be dead … is you."

"Sss…shut up … you bastard. Here," Sam hissed. He lifted the Colt out of the box and handed it to the demon. "Take it and leave my family alone." The demon took the gun. He ran his finger over the engraved Latin phrase and chuckled at its translated meaning _Fear no Evil_.

"This little visit has been nice Sammy. And since you've been such a gracious host it would be rude of me to leave without a parting gift." Sam felt himself forced viciously against a wall. His head connected violently. His world began to dim around the edges with darkness as he heard the demon hiss, "Like I told you by the pond survival of the fittest," and just as Sam began to sink into an all encompassing blackness sliding to the floor he saw two things … the demon disappear into a swirling blackness with the Colt and fire erupt up a distant wall spreading upward to the ceiling. And everything went black.

**Meanwhile, Just Outside Jefferson City**

Dean followed behind his father on their way back into the city. They had switched out the flat throwing the bad tire into the back of his father's truck and put the new tire on. It had taken a little longer than they thought, but it still wasn't too late. Dean glanced at his watch and noted it was 6:30 PM. Dean got caught up at a red light as he his dad passed under the yellow. He watched his father wave to him out his driver's side and Dean waved back indicating he'd see him at home. He noticed up ahead a fire truck was blazing through an intersection and he thought nothing more of it as he turned up his radio when Metallica's _Until it Sleeps_ began to play.

John tried to turn up his street, but couldn't get very far as he found the street partially blocked by a police cruiser as they kept the area open for the incoming second fire unit. He could see the thick black smoke billowing up from somewhere down his street. John felt a coldness consume him. He pulled his truck against the curb and jumped out.

"Sir, return to your car," the police officer approached him. "This isn't a spectator event."

"My house is down there. My son is home. What house is on fire?" John tried to push past the officer to get further up the street to see, but his gut was already taunting him that it was his home burning into the early hours of the evening.

"Sir, please," the officer put out an arm blocking him from progressing further. John looked at the officer; his eyes blazing.

"I said, my son is home. What house dammit? The address?" The officer gave John a sympathetic look and clicked on his personal radio.

"Dispatch this is unit 517 I need address verification on the house fire in progress on Willow Bend Ave."

"517 the fire was reported by a neighbor," there was a pause. "911 dispatch indicates the address is 2440 Willow Bend Ave." The voice over the radio crackled.

"Oh God, No," John whispered. "Sam!" John yelled. It didn't matter that his house was half a block away, he yelled anyway. "That's my home. My son. Please!"

"Sir, I'll try to find out details for you, but you have to stay back let the fire department work."

"I need to be closer, and if you want to stop me you're going to have to arrest me!" John pushed past the officer. The police officer sighed, but didn't stop the upset parent.

"Hey Derek?" the officer spoke over his radio to his partner up the street managing the scene by the house.

"Yeah?"

"Just givin' you a head's up … there's a guy headed your way. He's in blue work overall's said Pro Care Auto on the front … it's his house that's on fire. He said his son was home."

"I see him coming, thanks Jeremy. I got it."

"Yeah, okay."

John approached the officer with panicked eyes. He saw the waiting ambulance, but it was empty and the paramedics sat waiting. "My son where is he?" John barked to the officer that approached him.

"Sir, I'm Officer Macke, and you are?"

"John Winchester," he snapped. "That's my house. My son," he begged. "Where is he? Is he alright?"

Dean screeched to a stop against the curb behind his father's truck. He had seen the dark smoke as he entered the neighborhood. He felt sick as he jumped out of the Impala. He knew without being told that it was his house on fire. Dean was blocked by the officer.

"Sir," but before he could say anything else Dean glared at him.

"Save it, buddy! That's my Dad's truck. My brother's down there," and he pushed past the man. The officer let him pass to join his father.

Dean saw his dad standing with an officer. His father's back was to him, but he heard the words the officer was saying to him, and he tasted the bile creeping up his throat. The words would haunt him the rest of his life.

_Sir, I'm sorry. The house was completely engulfed when the first unit arrived. There has been a partial roof collapse. A neighbor called in the fire when they spotted smoke and then they said the front window literally exploded outward from the heat. They are trying their best sir, but it's doubtful if your son was in there… they were just able to gain access in the rear, but sir, it's unlikely anyone could survive. They think it was faulty wiring with the gas heater, based on the explosion, but they won't know for certain until the fire investigation team can inspect._

"Dad?" Dean's voice sounded broken and lost. John turned and immediately his eyes softened as he looked at his eldest child. "Dad? Sammy?" Dean cast frantic eyes toward the house.

"Dean," John pulled his son next to him and kept him close. There were no words.

"Sammy?" Dean repeated again a soft plea as he watched the red flames dance into the night sky. John wrapped an arm around Dean's shoulders. "Not fire, Dad. Not Sammy." Dean looked at no one, but the flames. His voice sounded distant even to his own ears.

"Could I get a blanket for him," John shot concerned eyes from his child to the officer as he felt Dean tremble. "I think he's in mild shock." The officer got a blanket from emergency services and John wrapped it around his son. "Dean? Son, look at me?" John encouraged. His heart was split between two sons in this moment, but this son he could help, he could do something for. "Dean?"

"Not dead. Not Sammy," Dean mumbled. "Not fire."

"Dean, listen to me," John took his son's face in his hands. "Look at me son." John forced Dean to finally make eye contact.

"Dad?" Dean's face crumbled and John simply pulled his son against him and held him tightly as he watched the fire department work to put out the raging fire consuming his home, and he silently prayed to a God he seldom acknowledged, _please, let Sammy be okay. Don't take him, not like this, not now._

**Forty-Minutes Earlier**

Sam woke to thick black smoke and the popping noise his mind soon registered as fire. There was a roar across the ceiling and the flames licked downward. Sam coughed against the suffocating smoke. He could see nothing through the blanket of black smoke. He turned over onto his stomach trying desperately to remember where he was exactly in the family room before he'd lost consciousness. He had no bearings to go from and his heart hammered against his sternum as he felt the heat of the fire getting closer. There was a loud explosion noise and the shattering of glass. Sam covered his head with his arms as the front window in the family room exploded outward when hot flames pushed against it. The waning light of day illuminated the room through the smoke just enough that Sam saw the couch and knew where he was. He crawled toward the direction of the kitchen using his hands to feel the way. His lungs burned as they filled with the acrid hot smoke. He tried to keep one hand cupped over his mouth and nose, as he crawled toward a hopeful escape.

He felt the shift from carpet to linoleum under his fingers and knew he was in the kitchen. There was a little bit of daylight breaking through the smoke blanket. He crawled toward the door connected with the garage, but when his hand touched the door he drew it back with a hiss. The fire had breached the interior walls and had reached the garage. He shifted direction quickly as he crawled toward the second door in the kitchen that led to the backyard. His world was beginning to fade in and out and he knew his hold on consciousness was beginning to fail as the smoke inhalation became more acute. There was a loud cracking and rumble from the direction of the family room and Sam pushed himself to stand. He swayed on his feet as his world threatened to slip away and he knew he had to get out or he would die in here. His hand found the door and he grabbed the knob and fell outside the door into the fresh air. Black smoke plumed out behind him, and the cracking inside the house reached a crescendo just as a portion of the roof began to collapse under the devouring hungry beast consuming the house in flame.

He stumbled against the line of six-foot property lining shrubs between the house and the neighbor's yard next door. The shrubs were double lined with smaller ones on their side and the neighbor's had the taller greenery. The shorter bushy shrub gave way under his weight, and as he fought to maintain his hold on the world he lost the battle falling into a dark oblivion. Sam fell into the shrubs and landed between the short shrubs and the taller ones. Sam lay unconscious perfectly hidden among the full green shrubbery.

**The Winchester House, Present Time**

John and Dean stood and watched in horror as the house continued to burn. It was another half-hour before they began to see more smoke than flame. Finally, the devastation was visible as the fire was successfully doused by the fire department. John watched firefighters enter the house with axes and pokers.

And shortly after he saw a solemn looking man walking toward him and John saw the badge on his fireman's jacket: Battalion Chief Kirsch.

"Mr. Winchester," his voice firm, yet gentle.

"My son?" John's voice caught in his throat.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we didn't find your son, and I wish I didn't have to say this, but with the intensity of this fire…" John held up a hand to stop the man from saying anything else. He held onto Dean who seemed to have withdrawn into a shell and remained stoically passive to the presence of the Fire Chief.

"Don't," John spoke softly … his voice raw with emotion.

"Sir," the man began hesitantly.

"I understand," John replied with a distant voice. "There's nothing left to find."

"I'm sorry." John nodded, but his throat constricted and all he could do was offer the man a curt nod. He pulled Dean close and wanted nothing more than to shelter him from this loss, this terrible loss he himself couldn't even get his mind around. And, just as John began to let the consuming grief of losing Sammy slip into his mind and body he heard a shout from the side of the house.

"Christ!" A firefighter yelled. "We need the paramedics now! We found the kid. Dammit how long has he been here?" There was a flurry of activity at the side of the house and John and Dean were both prevented from going to where the medics and firefighter's had gathered. They watched in a rapt sense of joy and panic. They had no idea if Sam was alive or lost to them forever. Had he been burned? John's gaze never broke from watching the side of the house as he kept Dean close to his side. _Please, don't let him be burned … please, not Sammy_. _Please, be alive …_ this one unified thought passed from father to first born son as they waited. And, soon the flurry of activity shifted back toward the front of the house and they saw firefighter's helping to carry Sam on a backboard as a medic followed along side squeezing a bag hooked to a plastic tube snaking out of Sam's mouth ventilating him. John and Dean caught a glimpse of their youngest family member. His face was covered in black smudges of soot and ash. His lips looked chapped and bloodless. His eyes were closed and they knew Sam wasn't conscious. The medic's had already cut his shirt from him and had attached a heart monitor and pulse-ox to his hand. Another firefighter ran alongside trying to keep the IV fluid bag high to help Sam get fluids faster.

Sam and the backboard carrying him were placed on a gurney and he was swiftly loaded into the ambulance. "We need room to work," a medic spoke briskly to John and Dean as they stepped forward to join Sam's prone form. "We're headed to Capitol. You can meet us there." John nodded and he and Dean were on the move.

**Two Days Later, ICU Conference Room**

"Mr. Winchester as you know Sam suffered extensive smoke inhalation and on top of that the MRI indicated a blunt force trauma head injury. Sam is still unresponsive and his lungs haven't yet begun to rebound from the smoke injury. His throat is slightly swollen, as well, from the inhalation of the hot smoke. The respiratory therapist tested his tidal volumes today and they are extremely poor. Your son isn't currently able to oxygenate himself adequately. The lung damage has posed us certain problems in keeping his oxygen levels up despite the use of the ventilator."

"But his lungs will heal?" John questioned. He hated sitting in medical conference rooms. It brought back bad memories of the last time he sat in one and was told Sam had no hope of a meaningful recovery, and then he had abandoned his boys.

"I'm hopeful," Dr. Lineman answered. "However, I'm more concerned about the head injury. Your son's history with serious head trauma gives me pause. I've consulted with his neurologist Dr. Myers." John nodded. "His case is being co-handled by her and our new on staff neurologist Dr. Reka. Sam is unresponsive to deep pain stimuli, and his pupil response is sluggish."

"The coma," John began. "He'll come out of it, right? I mean, there's no reason to believe he won't?" John wanted to be with Sam at his bedside. Dean wouldn't leave Sam and hasn't since he was settled in his ICU room. John understood why because he felt the same way, but fought the urge. They both knew the demon had to be at blame, and they both worried if they weren't with Sam that he'd slip away without one or both of them there to anchor him to this living world.

"Coma's are tricky, Mr. Winchester," Dr. Lineman started. "It's hard to say when Sam will wake up. There's been no sign of brain hemorrhage or skull fracture and that's good. There is indication of a very slight edema, but we're managing that," he paused. "But, there's a chance that the coma…" John cut the doctor off.

"My son's waking up. This hospital wrote him off once before and I'm not letting that happen again." The doctor nodded. He knew Sam's history and the previous diagnosis that had been given to the young man. And, he was also well versed on the dramatic recovery when Dr. Myers had filled in the blanks. "I'd like to get back to my son. Are we done here for now?"

"Yes, when I have more updates I'll speak with you. I'll see Sam on my evening rounds." John shook the doctor's hand and left.

Dean sat watching his little brother. His stillness unnerved him, but it always did. His brother was an animated person and this lax, unmoving body wasn't his Sammy. "Come on, kiddo," Dean pleaded. He held his brother's cool, lax hand in his own. "Hey, sleeping beauty it's time to open your eyes." Dean watched and waited. It seems he is always in this position … at his brother's side waiting to know if he'll be okay, if he'll live. He was frustrated, but mostly he was just scared … scared of losing his brother … scared of a world without Sam. "Sammy, listen to me," Dean leaned forward and spoke in a lowered tone at his brother's ear. "You gotta fight Sammy," Dean urged. "After everything we've been through … after everything you've beaten … it doesn't happen like this, you hear me!" His tone elevated slightly, but still remained within a private level. This conversation was between one brother to another and not for the world to hear. "I can't lose you Sammy," Dean's voice caught in his throat. The emotion was raw and his throat constricted. "This is an order Sam," Dean's tone became serious. "You've been through worse, so you fight! You don't have permission to die. You hear me? You're not dead until I tell you … got it Sammy? You're not dead until I tell you … that's an order."

"Think he'll listen?" John's voice was soft at the doorway to his child's room. He offered his eldest child a warm and supportive smile. Dean looked at his father and then back at his brother.

"He better," was Dean's only reply.

"Yeah," John answered quietly as he took up the second vacant chair at his son's bedside. There was a long moment of silence that filled the room leaving only the sounds of the heart monitor and ventilator to fill the void.

"What did the doctor say?" Dean asked suddenly breaking the silence.

"Sammy's a fighter Dean. He's gonna be okay." John assured.

"That's not what I asked Dad," Dean shifted his eyes from watching his brother's face to meet his father's gaze dead on.

"No, it isn't," John conceded. "He didn't say much. He said Sammy's lungs haven't begun to rebound yet, and that even with the ventilator they are fighting to keep his oxygen levels up. Um … he's worried about the head injury because of Sam's previous injury. He said Sammy was unresponsive and he mentioned the coma," John ran a hand through his hair. "Look, they've written Sammy off before okay … and no one really ever knows about anything. He's gonna wake up Dean, and his lungs will get better. He'll wake up when he's ready." John assured as he leaned forward and placed one hand on Sam's arm and another on Dean's knee patting him reassuringly.

"Yeah," Dean responded, his voice thick with emotion. "Yeah, he will."

**Two Weeks Later, ICU**

John walked toward his son's room. He had hated that he had to take care of business over the last week, and couldn't be with Sam every second, but Dean still stayed with is brother. John had had to deal with the fire inspection with the landlord and fire department. It had been deemed an accidental fire due to faulty wiring that in turn ignited the gas furnace. And, it was that combination that caused the house to be such a fast burn. John knew the truth though, the real reason. At any rate, there was no blame to place as far as the fire department was concerned. John had tried to salvage a little from the remains. He was glad that he had always kept important papers and family photos in a fire proof cabinet and those items had survived the flames and water damage from the fire hoses. He had noticed right away upon entering the house the empty metal box lying discarded against a wall. It was the box that held the Colt and the gun was nowhere to be found. He knew the demon had taken it. There were random items that could be saved, but mostly everything was a complete loss, not that it mattered the most precious thing to survive the fire was at the hospital clinging to life in the ICU. John rented a small storage unit for the items he was able to save from the ruins of the house before it was boarded up.

John stood silently at the entrance to Sam's room. Dean had fallen asleep with his head resting on an arm next to Sammy. He watched Dean sleep with his head near his brother's arm. His face held a scruffy stubble and John smiled warmly. He had had to force his oldest child to return to the hotel room they had taken up residence in for showers and limited sleep. Dean managed to shave every few days at John's urging, but it was clear that his son was due for another clean up. John walked quietly to the other side Sam's bed and ran a hand through his son's long hair. It seems his youngest child always had long unruly hair and even Dean's hair had grown out. His hair would never be like Sam's, but Dean now had bangs that could be pushed to the side. Both of his sons looked so young while they slept. John frowned at that notion because in reality only one son was truly sleeping the other was in a coma. A coma the doctors were now worried may be irreversible the longer it lasted, but John hadn't told Dean that recent news. Sam had made a mild improvement as his lungs began to mend from the smoke inhalation. He had begun triggering the ventilator on his own a few times an hour, but he still required help with his breathing.

"Hey kiddo," John kept his voice to a whisper. He didn't want to wake Dean. "Sammy, I need you to come back, okay? Your brother is going to grow roots if he sits in that chair much longer," John mused. He wanted to try anything he could to bring his son toward consciousness. He let out a patient sigh and gently stroked Sam's forehead. "It's okay Sammy," he cooed. "You come back to us when you're ready. We'll be here." He was still watching Sam's face and stroking his forehead and hair when Dean stirred. Dean opened his eyes and studied his younger brother for a long moment then shifted his eyes to the monitors. John watched his son's routine … the same routine whenever he woke up at Sam's side or came back into the room. Finally, Dean shifted his eyes across the bed to where his father sat. John had stopped stroking Sam's hair and now his hand simply rested on his boy's head.

"You should have woke me up? How long you been back?"

"Not long. And you needed the sleep."

"How'd the house inspection go?"

"Faulty wiring you know the drill," John replied his voice bitter as he recalled the fire that had claimed Mary. Dean simply grunted a reply.

"Dr. Myers was here earlier. She talked to me about Sammy's latest MRI."

"And?"

"She said the edema is almost gone, so that's good," Dean's voice perked up ever so slightly.

"Yeah, that is," John agreed.

"Dad, Dr. Myers was talking…" his voice trailed off. John knew what was coming. The doctor had told Dean the possible outcome that Sam may never open his eyes again.

"What did she say?"

"She, uh," Dean shifted his eyes to his brother's still features. "I know you know, Dad, about them saying Sammy might not wake up. But, Dr. Myers isn't ready to give up; she said there is always hope, always until there isn't." John smiled. He was thankful that Sam's doctor from Ivy Ridge still maintained an attitude of possibility when talking to Dean. He realized she probably knew Dean quite well, at least in respect of how to approach him and deal with him when Sammy was concerned.

"Smart woman," John offered, but said no more. Both men sat in silent vigil at Sam's side.

**One Week Later, ICU**

Sam began to stir slowly at first. His hands and then his legs moved absently with no real purpose as his mind fought to surface toward waking. "Sam? Sammy?" Dean stood over his brother. John ran a thumb across his son's forehead.

"Sammy?" John encouraged further.

It happened suddenly, as if a light switch had been thrown. Sam's eyes snapped open and they were filled with two emotions that Dean and John read clearly: confusion and fear. Sam rebelled violently against the tubing in his throat. Dean lunged for his brother's hands as they tried to grasp at the intruding apparatus in his mouth. "Sammy, no," Dean spoke gently, but with urgency. "It's okay. You're okay. You're safe." John stepped outside his son's room asking for help. "It's your breathing tube Sammy. It's okay. Relax." Sam finally focused on his brother's voice more than the words and he began to still under his touch just as medical staff poured into the room and John and Dean were quickly ushered out.

**Four Hours Later, Outside ICU**

"I just can't," John spoke into his cell phone.

"I understand Johnny, I do," Joshua consoled. "So, Sam is going to be okay?"

"The doctors say he turned a corner. They were able to take him off the ventilator. He's gonna be okay."

"Good," Joshua replied. "The kid has sort of grown on me over the years." John offered a quiet laugh. "Look Johnny, we'll keep an eye out for things, okay? I'll keep in touch. And, you know how to contact me if you need anything, anything at all, right?"

"I do. Thanks Josh."

"No problem. So, I'll tell the others … you're sure?"

"Yes," John answered without hesitation. "I'm not leavin' my boys again. There has to be a line in the sand Joshua and this is it for me. That bastard wants to come again, let him, but it'll be on my turf not his. I won't play into his hands again. I won't make the same mistake that happened in Eden not with my kids."

"But, the Colt," Joshua began. "You're sure he has it?"

"Yeah," John answered. His mind slipped back to the moment Sam was trying desperately to speak, but his raw throat hadn't wanted to cooperate. He had whispered painfully that he had given the gun to the demon. John had comforted his youngest and told him it didn't matter. "Yeah," he began again. "I'm sure."

John finished his conversation with his long time friend and fellow hunter. He snapped his phone shut and walked back toward the ICU. Everything that mattered to him in his life was in that hospital unit. His son's.

**Two Months Later, May 2, 2009**

Sam sat in the small kitchen of their new home with his eyes covered. John had rented a new place near the river before Sam was even discharged from the hospital over a month ago. Dean and John both had gone out buying used furniture at local garage sales and had bought a couple pieces from a nearby discount furniture store. John was bound and determined to not allow the demon to rob his boys of one more damn thing. He could give them another home, and a sense of normalcy. He had told his sons while Sam was still in the hospital that he wasn't returning to the hunt for the demon. He was staying with them, and if a local hunt popped up they'd do it as a family, but his cross country search for the demon was over. Instead, he stayed at the body shop working, and Dean did too. Sammy had returned to taking classes and working with his OT at Ivy Ridge.

"Keep em' covered," Dean ordered playfully.

"I am," Sam groused with amusement. "I'm twenty-six dd…dude, not six."

"You'll always be six to me Sammy," Dean quipped with a laugh. "Okay, open em'."

"Happy Birthday Sammy," John and Dean both said in unison as they sat a small cake in front of the youngest member of their family with a single candle. Sam smiled.

"Thanks." He closed his eyes a second and then blew the single candle out.

**Later that Evening**

"He asleep?" John asked as Dean sat down on the couch.

"Yep," Dean replied. "I think he enjoyed the cake and dinner."

"Me too. I'm glad." John answered. "You check the dust and salt lines?"

"Triple checked."

They had learned how the demon had gained access to the house to get to Sam and they learned from their near fatal mistake. John leaned back into the couch turning on ESPN to watch with his firstborn. He had taken every precaution to protect his family while home. He knew nothing was guaranteed, but the entire family had become vigilant. John knew the demon would come calling again one day, but if the prophecy he had learned of was true, it wouldn't be until that last cycle of special births, the winter solstice 2015. And, then the battle would begin. He and his son's would be ready, but for now John was content to sit by his son on the couch watching sports while his youngest son slept safely down the hall.

The Winchester's had learned a lesson as a family since that fateful night in the cabin and the life altering car wreck. Two truths … they are stronger together than apart and that sometimes in order to hold on you have to be willing to let go. Their journey as a family wasn't finished, but for now it was quiet, for now it was peaceful … and the battle would find them again, but not yet … not yet.

**The End**

**Well, for good or bad this story is finally complete. I hope you liked the finale and that it didn't let you down as a reader. I know based on quite a few requests many of you wanted to see it continue, but I had always envisioned an ending, so it couldn't last forever. **

**Thank you for sticking with the story through 28 chapters. I appreciate every reader, every review and PM I have received during this lengthy writing endeavor. I hope you take a moment of your time to leave a review or comment before parting ways with this final chapter. Thank you!**

**Read and Review.**


End file.
